


Robby's Rebellion

by indoorbird



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - High School, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Misogyny, Misogyny, Multi, Period-Typical Sexism, Slut Shaming, parents just don't understand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indoorbird/pseuds/indoorbird
Summary: Lyanna Stark would rather bite off her own leg than go to prom with Robby Baratheon.Robert's Rebellion, 90's High School AU
Relationships: Ashara Dayne/Brandon Stark, Barbrey Dustin/Brandon Stark, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Comments: 28
Kudos: 94





	1. track 1: all i really want by alanis morissette

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic years ago, inspired by a gifset series by the (I believe to be) deactivated serbranflakes called "robert's rebellion '94".

Lyanna was getting pretty damn sick of prom.

Every day this week her perfectly adequate cafeteria lunch had been interrupted by a damn promposal. It was Thursday and she got so angry when she saw Yohn Royce walking in with a bouquet of flowers she almost choked on her bologna sandwich.

“It’s just a stupid dance with stupid flowers and dresses and limos so why does it get such totally unnecessary fanfare? I mean, who really cares?” she ranted to her three best friends- her brother Benjen, Barb Ryswell, and Howl Reed, “I mean, it’s so annoying how you’re forced to care about the trivial because of this petri dish we live in. I think I could rattle off who’s in the running for king and queen, who’s hosting the after parties, and who is getting chicken or fish, and I’m not even in the senior class.”

“I heard a rumor Cersei Lannister asked Rhaegar one on one if he would go with her,” Barb said.

“Well he’s obviously taking his girlfriend Elia so that was pretty dumb. I’m sure Jaime can find her a date though,” Lyanna said, “Ugh! Why do I know that? This is what I’m talking about!”

“Come on, Lya, isn’t hating prom as much a cliché as prom itself?” Benjen teased, waving a fry in her face for flourish. He was only a freshman and too smart for his own good.

“Hating prom is a time-honored tradition for misunderstood girls like me along with black eyeliner and combat boots. Let me nurse my grudge in peace,” she said melodramatically, as she said most things.

“Pretty hypocritical since it’s all but confirmed you’re going,” Barb said. Lyanna had known Barbrey Ryswell since they were kids, and her tongue was as sharp as her name. She was referring to the fact that Robby Baratheon had been telling everyone in school they were going to prom together without you know, running it by Lyanna.

Lyanna grimaced, “If that lummox Baratheon approaches me with a sign, I think I’ll get an STD on the spot.”

“Ned will make you come around,” Benjen said knowingly. He did have evidence backing up this claim. She was particularly weak to that brother’s requests. He was a good kid despite his boneheaded lacrosse associations, and she hated letting him down on the rare occasion he called upon her. But he was pushing it by trying to set up her and Robby, who was bound for a life of beer bellies and maybe an appearance on _Maury._

She looked over to his table where he was commanding the attention of his fellow hot-blooded idiots. She saw Ned in his usual spot, at Robby’s right hand, looking up at him like he hung the sun.

“I’m getting pretty sick of Ned and his bro’s,” she said.

“Come on, I’m one of Ned’s bro’s,” Howl said. Howland Reed was one of the few people at this school she wholly approved of. He was always himself no matter what anyone thought.

“Howl, you are Ned’s friend. I’m talking about Ned’s _bro’s_ who smash beer cans and wear pastels and are constantly in competition for who has the biggest genitalia.”

Howl smirked, “Okay, I’m not a bro, but I could be if I wanted to.”

She looked up and down at Howl’s nose ring and drug rug and thought of his history of being targeted by all alpha males since pre-K. Just last week he’d taken a beating from some football players who refused to pay for the weed Howl dealt them, “Sure, buddy.”

“Lya, you’re about to beat Stan the Can for person in school most bitter about Robby Baratheon’s existence,” Barb teased. She was talking about Stannis, the Baratheon middle child. All you needed to know about their relationship was Robert gave him that nickname right after dropping him into a garbage can.

“I’m not bitter, I have every right to be annoyed by his very annoying crush on me,” she said. Because she got Robby’s number the moment his affections were made known. He liked her precisely because she wasn’t a girl he would just hit and quit. This was supposed to make her endeared to him because she, Lyanna Stark, got to be this cad’s single exception! The thrill! She would be his arm candy, a good match to bring to his parents and to the prom. She would make a sign with his number on it to hold at his lacrosse games- not that he’d ever go see her play soccer- and be totally obsessed with his every move, this god among men. But on the side, he’d keep fucking all the girls he did before. Just now he had one he owned.

This undeniable truth of Robby’s psyche was apparent only to her though. If Robby actually knew anything about her, he wouldn’t like her. She was rude and boyish and liked to lock herself in her room and listen to grunge on Sundays. Sometimes she acted a bitch just because she liked it. With any other boy she’d have sent him away crying long ago, but her parents forced her to be extra nice to their spawn. Robby’s dad died when he was young, and he’d been a friend of her dad’s. She felt bad Robby and his brothers grew up without a dad, but his annoying crush on her had whittled down all of her goodwill.

Next year, junior year, would be better. She was bound to get recruited, hopefully somewhere far away. She’d get her license and Brandon’s car once he graduated. She would miss him, lunk he is, but graduation also meant Robby would also be far away in some frat house by then. Then it was two years to college, and she would finally be free to find her real people, who smoked cigarettes and dressed however they wanted and never would step foot in a stupid country club.

“Will high school ever end?” she sighed. It was nearly May; the day was coming soon.

“Hey, if you play your sport real good, you might get an early break like Jaime Lannister,” Barb said.

“What do you mean?”

“He got recruited to play for Vanderbilt so he’s graduating early to go train with them,” Barb said, “They’re doing this whole special tutoring sitch to make it happen.”

“So, who’s going to play kicker next year for us?” Lyanna asked.

“That I cannot tell you. The Barbrey News Network does not cover sports, only jocks. The real question is who will still pretend to like Cersei if she’s not stuck to Jaime like a lemming?”

Lyanna looked over to the football table. Almost the entire first string would be gone after graduation. Jaime Lannister was there, making eating French fries somehow look stuck up. Next to him were the assholes who picked on Howl, all underclassmen. Next to Jaime was Brandon and his girlfriend since forever, Cat Tully. They usually split their lunches between Brandon’s football bros and Cat’s prissy friends. Even better than Brandon were Arthur Dayne and Rhaegar Targaryen, running back and quarterback respectively. The two of them together had been winning state championships since they made varsity as freshman. They were the ultimate alphas at this school- attractive, athletic, and rich as God. Arthur was a prep through and through, but Rhaegar had a Heath Ledger broodiness about him, with his shoulder-length hair and preference for wearing all black under his varsity jacket.

Rounding out the table were the WAGS of West High Football. Cersei Lannister shook a Tupperware full of salad as she spoke to her brother. Ashara Dayne was next to her, head cheerleader and the only bigger gossip than Barb in school. Then was their unofficial leader- Elia Martell. Elia didn’t cheer, but she was still the golden girl in every way- student body president, homecoming queen, and probably bound to be valedictorian.

Lyanna loved football, always had, and appreciated these players not as a fan, but as a peer. She knew the game inside and out. She had shelves full of trophies at home for every sport she’d pursued- little league softball, cross country, equestrian camp, varsity soccer- but none for football. Her dad always said it was for the boys and she’d get hurt when refusing to sign any of the permission forms she pushed in front of him. She knew she could be great at it, and she deserved to get the same adoration for her skills as any of those meatheads. She didn’t want to spend all four years sitting on the edge of the cafeteria and talking about other people. She certainly didn’t want to spend it letting her dad or Robby or anyone telling her what to do.

Lyanna Stark was special, damn it. It was time everyone knew it.

Sunday morning, Lyanna woke up bright and early and met Barb outside her house. Benjen had loaned her his equipment and helped her put it on. It’d been a while since she’d suited up in her brother’s shoulder pads and played with the boys. The plan was to try out to take Jaime’s place as kicker. She’d wear her helmet the entire time so they wouldn’t turn her away on sight. The only problem could be Brandon, but she hoped she knew him well enough to assume that even if he recognized her, he’d let her be.

“I love you for this, Lya,” Howl said, beaming from the backseat of Barb’s baby blue buggy, “Those guys aren’t going to know what hit him.” She was partially doing this to get back at the boys who’d tried to kick his ass last week.

Of course, all this proving herself was dependent on herself. But Lyanna was in insane shape and had been beating boys at their own game since she was old enough to say “quarterback.”

“I cannot wait to document all this for _Shitshow_ ,” Barb said. Barb filmed almost everything she did for her constantly evolving documentary. Lyanna had no idea how she would ever edit all this footage into something but knew better than to doubt Barb.

Lyanna almost went home when she caught sight of Whent Memorial football field. She’d been watching the state champion team play here since she was a little girl, and the high school athletes seemed more like Titans. But after a second, her nerve returned.

Howl and Barb waved her off like proud parents, and she walked alone to where the other prospects were stretching.

She didn’t know any of these boys. Most were 8th graders from the middle school or freshman. She noticed happily that she wasn’t the shortest in the bunch so she wouldn’t stick out too much. As long as the two sports bras she was wearing over her already tiny boobs held up, she should blend in fine. She took one of the numbered pennies that were being distributed. Number 7, hopefully good luck.

The warm-up was nothing she couldn’t handle. She easily kept up with running suicides and jumping jacks, happy to see her endurance was better than at least half the other prospects. After that, the coaches split them up by position, and there were quite a few hopeful kickers. Some were already on the team, and she picked out the boys who had messed with Howl. She put herself last, so she’d be memorable.

She smiled to see one of the rude boys mess up badly. Everyone else was passable and could be improved on.

Then it was her. She had one chance to play the game she’d always loved. She liked soccer well enough, but football was like the one who got away, only more desirable for being forbidden.

She slowed her breath, pulled her foot back, and everything moved in slow motion as the ball arced into a perfect field goal.

Jaime let out a low whistle, “Nice. Let’s try ten yards back.”

They moved back and back and back. And she had perfect kicks again and again and again. The other boys floundered at the distance, but her kicks were sure and straight. Now everyone was paying attention, including Coach Hightower, the QB, and her brother. She allowed herself a look at Howl and Barb cheering in the stands. This helmet was squeezing her head, she was forming serious boob sweat, and her heart was pumping so loud she could barely hear anything else. She’d never been happier.

Coach Hightower blew his whistle, and everyone handed back their pennies. Lyanna was flying on air.

Before the crowd broke, Jaime said in a low voice, “Between you and me, man, I think you got it. What’s your name?”

She had proven herself. It was time for the ruse to end. She pulled off her helmet and felt her ponytail fly free, “Lyanna Stark.”

Everyone was looking at her, and she beamed. Jaime laughed, and Brandon looked so proud he might fall over. Even Rhaegar had a small smile.

Coach Hightower was pink in the face, “Nice trick, girlie, but I’ve got a serious program here.”

“It wasn’t a trick,” she said, “I really am that good.”

“She kicked better than anyone else I saw today,” Jaime said, and she smiled at him in pleasant surprise.

“She gets it all from me,” Brandon said, coming over to put a protective arm around her.

“I have heard of other schools having female kickers. It would not be unheard of, and she is quite good.” If Jaime standing up for her was a surprise, it was shocking to hear Rhaegar speak up. They’d never exchanged words in her life. Did he even know her name?

Coach Hightower clearly didn’t want to start a fight with half his team, so he said, “I’ll think about it,” before turning away.

Brandon clapped her on the back and whooped. She was still shaky from excitement and the slap almost knocked her over, “Lya, that move was ballsy, even by my standards.”

She shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, “I just knew I could do it.”

Howl and Barb ran over then.

“I caught everything!” Barb said, eyes alight. That was before she noticed Brandon and started fidgeting, “Oh, hey, Brandon, what’s up?”

“Hey, Barb,” he said wiggling his caterpillar eyebrows. Yuck. Barb had had a crush on Brandon since they were kids despite the fact that he hadn’t been single since he was nine. Brandon was the only smudge in Barb’s usually 20/20 judgement.

“Barb, can you come over with the tape to show Benjen later?” Lyanna said. She turned to Brandon, “Ben had to stay behind and cover for me.”

“Good man,” he said, still making eye contact with Barb.

Lyanna tried not to roll her eyes, “Barb, can I change in your car?”

“Sure,” she said, tossing her the keys without looking away from Brandon. Hopeless.

Lyanna went on her way. She was sweating beneath these shoulder pads, but she didn’t dare take them off where anyone could see her white t-shirt soaked through with sweat. She rushed past the bleachers but stopped when she heard someone say, “Lyanna Stark.”

It was Rhaegar, QB1, hiding under the bleachers, with lines of light falling through the seats on to his face. One beam perfectly fell on his right eye, making it look almost purple in the light. The other eye was in the shadow. He wore the hint of a smile.

“Yes?” What would he possibly want with her?

“I wanted to say how impressed I was, not only by your kicking skills but for trying out at all.”

“Uh, thanks,” she said, desperately hoping she wasn’t blushing. He was definition pretty boy, with his blonde hair almost white in the sun and pink lips against fair skin. She hoped he applied his sunblock this morning or he’d burn. She didn’t count herself as easily swayed by good looks, but she was only human, and the gods fashioned Rhaegar Targaryen to stun mere mortals like herself.

“You’re something else,” he said, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about the look he was giving her. Was he making fun of her? Pretty or not, that would not do.

“Uh, yeah, I get that a lot,” she said a little bitterly.

“I’ll try and get Coach to come around,” he said, suddenly serious, “You deserve to play. Besides, I’ve won a couple titles now, I think he at least owes me his ear.”

“Oh, really, it’s okay,” she said, thinking she’d die of embarrassment if her name ever even came out of his mouth.

“Don’t you want to play?”

She did, but she’d barely imagined even getting past the try-out. Even if Coach Hightower came around, there was still the thousand-foot-high wall of Rickard Stark’s opinion, “I guess I wouldn’t know what to do if I actually got what I wanted.”

He laughed, “I understand that. To tell you the truth, I’m a little over football. I’d rather focus on my music.”

She laughed in surprise, and he looked embarrassed. She rushed to apologize, “Sorry. I just didn’t expect the sentence to end with that. Music? That’s so cool. I love music.”

He smiled, “Only a few people know. I’ve played cello since I was four. I’ve got a call back with Julliard coming up.”

“Shit,” she said, “That’s really cool.”

“I’ve got a one-man band act right now. I’ve got some tapes in my car, if you want to listen.”

“Sure, cool,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. You don’t just turn down QB 1’s secret mixtape. She also felt a strange sort of affection for his unexpected nervousness.

“Cool,” he said. He led her to a brand-new convertible, opened the side door, and dug around in the glove compartment until he procured the tape. He turned back to her and took a step towards her, leaning over her. He was a lot taller than her, long and lean, so unlike Robby’s bull-like build. Rhaegar seemed to regard her for a moment before handing her the tape.

“I’ll see you around, Lyanna Stark,” he said. With that, he circled around the car and got in driver’s seat.

“Seeya,” she said, giving half a wave to his back. That was so weird. She saw Howl leaving the field, and he gave her a “What are you doing?” look. She hurried to beat him to the car and quickly remove her shoulder pads in his backseat.

Howl opened the door and sat himself in the front while she was still changing.

“Howl, my dignity!”

“I’ve seen your dignity a few times already. It does nothing for me,” he said, “Stay in the back, please. Your BO is bad enough from here.”

“You talk to me so rudely after I championed you against those assholes,” she said, “Did you see Frey miss the ball?”

She could hear the grin in his voice, “Karma, tis a sweet lady.”

“I thought the phrase said she was a bitch.”

“Yeah, but that’s how I like them,” he said.

She made a noise of release as she removed the second sports bra that was meant for flattening her chest. The double-bra had been digging into her ribs all morning. How had she managed to run those sprints?

“Where’s Barb at?” she asked.

“Talking to your brother,” Howl said.

She groaned, “Gross. Is he flirting?”

“I think most would define it that way,” Howl said, “Barb’s been in love with him since we were kids. Doesn’t he know that?”

“Of course, he does. I love him, but he doesn’t listen to the right head.”

Barb entered the car, and they promptly shut up. Howl started to pull out of the high school parking lot.

“You were brilliant out there, Lya,” she said, smiling, though Lyanna was certain she was not the Stark who made Barb look so happy.

“Thanks, Barb,” she said.

“Hey, Lya, has Brandon asked anyone to prom yet?” she asked.

Lya could feel an eye in the back of Howl’s head glaring at her, “I imagine he’ll ask Cat since they’ve been dating forever.”

“I thought Petyr Baelish was asking her. She gives him a ride to school every day,” she said, failing to sound casual.

Lyanna wanted to say, “That’s just because she’s nice, and he’s her neighbor. Why would Cat choose a slimy little neckbeard like Petyr Baelish over Brandon?”

“Oh, maybe,” Lyanna actually said.

“I was just wondering, you know, for the documentary,” she said.

“Sure,” Lyanna said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“Well, I need some diner food, stat, or I’m going to eat the leather on the steering wheel,” Howl said. Thankfully their breakfast contained no mentions of Brandon Stark outside of their lively game of Fuck, Marry, Kill: Varsity Football Edition. Lyanna murdered Brandon to avoid incest and also probably because he deserved it. She left Rhaegar Targaryen unmentioned, even as Barb chose him for the first option round after round. 

It felt weird, even off-limits, for Lyanna to think of him that way. Even though that was insane. They didn’t even know each other. Yet it was his tape was burning a hole in her pocket. She could not say Rhaegar’s name. For some dumb, irrational reason, it would feel like revealing something very private.


	2. track 2: just a girl by no doubt

When Lyanna got home, she hid the football equipment in the garage and raced upstairs for a much-needed shower. Her father should be at his usual Sunday golf outing, although he hardly noticed her comings and goings anyway. It was Lyarra’s questions she’d have to dodge.

But first, there would be Benjen’s. He was knocking on her bedroom door almost the moment she turned the faucet off.

“One moment!” she yelled. She quickly put on some basketball shorts and a sweatshirt so she could let him in.

“How did it go?”

“Brilliant,” she said, and she couldn’t contain her smile, “I nailed it. I hadn’t even thought about actually making the team, but then Jaime Lannister started talking to me and all the other guys- “

“-Woah- “

“Yeah. Even Rhaegar Targaryen said he’d try and make it happen.”

“QB1?”

“QB1. I mean, I doubt it’ll happen, the coach looked mad I’d tricked him, but actually doing it and seeing all their faces, it made me want it.”

“Everyone’s going to be talking about this,” Benjen said, “I can’t believe you actually did something this cool.” She socked him in the shoulder.

“Barbrey has video proof, dipshit,” she said, “But thanks for covering me.”

Before Benjen could respond with a wet willy, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” she yelled. It was Ned, predictably. He was the only Stark polite enough to knock.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly. It was always a little awkward between them and Ned nowadays. The three of them had been thick as thieves when they were little, but then Ned befriended Robby, a bulky boy with ice cream on his shirt and a tendency to play rough, and he barely gave them the time of day since middle school.

“What’s up?” she said.

“We’re going to the batting cages,” Benjen said, standing up.

“Yeah, go get your stuff,” Ned said, with a brotherly slap on the back. Okay, maybe things were only weird between her and Ned.

Ben left, but Ned hovered in her room.

“Can I help you?”

He hesitated before he said, “Robby’s still giving me a hard time. Would you reconsider?”

She huffed, “Has he never been told ‘no’ before?”

“No,” Ned said. He grinned, and they both laughed.

“I just don’t like him,” she said gently, sparing him from her usual tirade about she really does not appreciate being treated like a Barbie doll to be dressed up and carried around, “I’m sure he can still find another girl.”

“He can, but he really likes you,” Ned said, “That’s nice, right? Being on the receiving end of being liked?”

His bitter tone set her off. She raised an eyebrow, “Are you speaking from experience right now?”

Ned blushed, and she gasped, “Eddard Stark, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Okay, that’s dramatic,” he said.

“Who is it?”

“Promise me you won’t laugh?”

“I promise,” she said, “Cross my heart.”

“Okay,” he said, “It’s Ashara Dayne.”

“Really?” she said, trying to hide her shock, “I didn’t know that was your type.”

“She’s beautiful,” he said, all starry-eyed. Yes, she was beautiful, and she would also eat her sweet brother alive.

“How do you know she doesn’t like you?” she said.

“I’ve never spoken to her in my life.”

“Yeah, changing that might help matters,” she said.

He grinned sheepishly, “I wouldn’t be able to get two words out if I even got that close.”

“She’d be lucky to get one word from you,” Lyanna asserted.

Ned was blushing, “Okay, Lya,” he said, and he left the room. 

Lyanna went about the room picking up the sweaty clothes she’d thrown everywhere in her race to shower. When she picked up her shorts, Rhaegar’s cassette tape fell out of the pocket. She stuck it into her stereo and began to listen.

It was a different sound than she’d expected. Lyanna mostly listened to old rock songs Brandon told her to like and grunge albums Barb told her to like. Rhaegar’s voice was straight up lovely, crooning simple ballads with a surprising amount of soul. He’d said he was a one-man band, so he must be playing the many different instruments heard- piano, guitar, and what must be the cello he mentioned, among others. There was one use of harmonica she quite liked.

She wanted to talk about it so bad, only slightly more than she wanted it to be a private, special thing. Was that wrong? Rhaegar had said not many people knew but didn’t really call it a secret. It’s not like Lyanna was going to blast it from the rooftops. She restrained herself for ten minutes before dialing Barb’s number.

“Hey, it’s me,” she said.

“Hey,” Barb said, “I’m watching the tapes from today. I’ll give them to you on Monday. I got some great shots from under the bleachers, real artsy stuff I hope you appreciate.”

“Of course, I will, but I don’t know if Benjen has our sophisticated eye.”

“Ha. So, what’s up?”

“I was talking to Rhaegar Targaryen after tryouts. He told me he thought I was good.”

“QB1?” Barb said, “Oh, he’s beautiful. I hope he has his cheekbones insured. It would be a crime if someone were to tackle him and shatter them.”

“Yes, he is very dreamy,” Lyanna admitted, “But he gave me this tape to listen to. He’s actually a musician, sort of in secret.”

“Of course, he is,” Barb said “God gave with every hand he’s got to that one. We haven’t even talked about the money or his delicious arms.”

“Do you want to hear it?” Lyanna asked, “Just don’t tell anybody, okay?”

“Not a soul. Please, please play,” Barb said. Lyanna put the phone next to the speaker and pressed play. She skipped to the song that had stuck out most to her. It was sad and lovely, with the best showcase for his voice. She didn’t know a lot about music, but she knew this was good, in that gut way.

When the song ended, Lyanna asked, “What do you think?”

“I’m glad this is over the phone because I’m a bit misty-eyed,” Barb said.

“Really?” Barb was usually the less romantic one of their friendship, and that was saying something as Lyanna was more thorn than rose. She didn’t want to admit her eyes had been a little wet on first listen too.

“I’m not sure if it’s just because it’s really good or because I know a beautiful boy is behind that voice.”

“That is how the Backstreet Boys rose to power,” Lyanna said.

“No, he’s better than that. He’s a little Morrissey.”

“Mmm,” Lyanna said in agreement, “It’s just so emotional.”

“I wonder if Elia knows about the music thing,” Barb said.

“I’m sure she does,” Lyanna said, quickly, “I mean he told me, and I don’t even know him.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to tell something to a stranger than someone close to you.”

“Yeah, but I mean, why would he date a girl he can’t tell things too?”

“I don’t know. To please his parents. The Martells are part of the same inner society circle.”

“I wouldn’t be shocked, even if it’s so old-school. I mean, isn’t that what cotillion shit is all about? Like, ‘My son’s good at football, yours is pretty, let’s make some babies to give our inheritance money too.’”

“I think lots of people are in relationships for a show. Especially in this town.”

“Like who?”

“Well….”

“Who?”

“Do you think Brandon really likes Cat?”

“Oh, Barb not this.”

“Look, I know you think I have a stupid crush on him, but this is a totally objective observation,” she said, “I mean, what do they have in common?”

“They-” she had to stop. Cat was poised and pretty and smart and responsible. Brandon was a little bit insane and never took anything seriously. But weren’t opposites supposed to attract?

“They’ve been together since they were nine,” Lyanna said.

Cat was a fact of the Stark family. Barring a brief break-up sophomore year, she’d always been around. Lyanna couldn’t imagine her as anything but Brandon’s girlfriend and had always assumed they would get married and make a million babies after college graduation. But really, what did she know about what went on when they were alone? What did they even talk about? How could they ever agree on anything with such different approaches to life?

Her parents adored Cat. She could imagine the questions and judgments Brandon would get for breaking up with her. Their dads were golfing together right now. It would create an awkward tension. Brandon hadn’t even told them they split sophomore year, Lyanna had assumed that was because he was so sure it wouldn’t last.

Lyanna was thinking about what Barb had said later when Cat came to study with Brandon- in the living room as always, no bedroom-with-the-door-closed business. She saw her mother look over with a loving smile. It did sort of feel like a diorama for Pleasing Parents 101.

But Brandon never does anything he doesn’t want to do. It was a hard fact. Lyanna tried to be like that too, but she got away with it less.

She studied them during dinner. Cat made easy conversation with her parents. Their dad was always uncharacteristically nice to her, and her mother thought anything Cat did should mean candidacy for the Nobel Peace Prize. They especially loved to compare Cat to Lyanna. Maybe if Brandon hadn’t ever brought this portrait of girly, preppy perfection into their home, Lyanna would have a lot less pressure. Maybe if there was no Cat Tully, Lyanna would not have been forced to sign her life away to Robby Baratheon.

It went like this:

_SCENE: A typical Stark family dinner. LYARRA, RICKARD, BRANDON, NED, CATELYN, and BENJEN all sit in high-backed mahogany chairs. LYANNA eats the scraps that fall to her place on the floor._

LYARRA: That is a lovely sundress, Cat. You have the utmost style. So many young women today don’t know how to dress themselves with such class _(Lyarra looks at Lyanna, who is dressed in dishrags bound together with squirrel tails)_

CAT: Oh, thank you, Mrs. Stark. I actually made this myself. _(flips hair)_

LYARRA: You made this dress? You, not the best designers of French couture? I have never seen a gown so lovely. The art, the design, the skilled hand! Oh, Catelyn, you are a credit to your gender and to people who wear clothes everywhere. Real clothes, that is. _(She kicks Lyanna)_

RICKARD: I have no taste for the womanly arts, but if I did, I too would commend that sundress. Brandon, I congratulate you for your success in finding a mate.

BRANDON: Thank you, father. I hope all my siblings may find mates that are to your satisfaction.

NED: Actually, I hear Robert Baratheon, King of the Ogres, is looking for a lady to take to the ball, and some may consider Lyanna to be suitable.

LYARRA: Oh, Lyanna is not worthy of even an ogre king, but it would be so good for her to go!

RICKARD: I was friends with his father, the late ogre king. Yes, I approve of this match.

LYANNA: But ogres are so gross and slimy!

LYARRA: Lyanna, you should be gracious an ogre as nice as Robby likes you.

CATELYN: I could make you a dress!

LYARRA: Oh, Lyanna, even you would be pretty in a dress Catelyn made!

BRANDON: Lyanna never said she was going-

RICKARD: It would be extremely rude for you to turn down Robert. He’s a nice boy, who’s been through a lot.

_[A short ballet is performed where LYANNA considers telling her father Robby only wants to pork her which would certainly turn him against the ogre king. She performs a pirouette of anguish as she realizes how this would disappoint her father to learn his friend’s son was only interested in porking. She performs a grand jeté across the table to show her submission to this match.]_

LYARRA: I’ll order your corsage.

END OF SCENE

“I am somehow going to prom with Robby Baratheon,” Lyanna said in a three-way call with Barb and Howl after dinner.

“I owe Benjen five,” Howl said.

“Stupid Ned brought it up in front of the parents. They couldn’t fathom why I felt I could turn down Robby Baratheon, and I didn’t have the heart to tell my dad his late friend’s son was a walking boner.”

“That’s big of you,” Howl said, “Hey, we can try and sneak our way in and keep you company. I think student council was looking for volunteers for coat check.”

“That would be awesome, if you don’t mind losing a Saturday night,” Lyanna said.

“Are you kidding? It will be fun to watch everyone act like idiots in their best finery.”

“I bet we could find a way to have fun,” Barb said, “Harrenhal is like the fanciest country club in the state. I think my dad would give up a firstborn to get in. We could sneak into the pool!”

“I am so down with turning this heinous date into a night of shenanigans,” Lyanna said, imagining Robby’s face if she jumped into a pool in an evening gown.

“I’ll get out my best suit,” Howl said.

“I’ll charge my camera battery,” Barb said.

“You guys rule,” Lyanna said, signing off.

She heard a knock at the door, “Come in.”

It was her mom, “Hey, hon.” She walked in and sat next to Lyanna on her bed.

“Hi.”

“I think it’s really nice that you’re going to prom with Ned’s friend,” she said.

“I guess,” Lyanna wanted to groan. Couldn’t this just be over with?

“Are you excited?” she said. Oh great, girl talk time.

“Call me a cow because I’m over the moon,” Lyanna said.

“I remember my senior prom. Your father gave me his class ring, and we danced all night.”

Brandon was born when her mom was like 19 so Lyanna wasn’t sure all that was dancing, “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

“Robby’s pretty cute,” her mom said, winking. Barf.

“I guess,” Lyanna said.

“A girl never forgets her senior prom. This will one of the most memorable nights of your whole life,” her mom said. Lyanna thinks forever remembering a catering hall that reeks of hairspray and desperation is kind of sad.

“I doubt it’ll be that eventful.”

“You never know. I thought your father would always just be the boy next to me in chemistry until he asked me go prom. You never know who will be in your life forever.”

“The only thing long-term about Robby is the sexually transmitted infections he spreads,” she wanted to say.

“Ah, come on,” she said instead, her face red.

“Well, we’ll have to book a hair appointment. And buy a dress. I assume you don’t have one.”

Lyanna had completely forgotten about that entire aspect. She hadn’t worn a dress since her bat mitzvah, and that had featured a war between mother and daughter. She looked to her closet, filled with blue jeans and Brandon’s old sweatshirts, “You know I don’t.”

“Well, we can go this week. You can bring Barb if you want.”

“Cool,” she said. Barb would be back-up for the inevitable fight her mother and she always had when shopping.

Lyarra reached over and squeezed her hand, “I’m so glad you’re doing this. I know you march to your own beat. I used to be the same way, believe it or not. Your father used to call me a she-wolf.”

“What?” Lyanna said.

“Yeah,” Lyarra said, with an embarrassed smile, “Riding around, getting in all sorts of trouble. I used to be the Queen of Detention.”

“What’d anybody give you detention for?” Lyanna asked.

“Oh, short skirts, smoking in the girls’ room, that sort of thing.”

“Mom!” Lyanna asked, “I cannot believe this.”

“Well, your father doesn’t find it all that funny to talk about. I think he’s a little embarrassed of our youth,” her mother said, “But treasure it, dear, for when you’re old and stuffy with kids of your own.”

Her mom left, and Lyanna tried to picture a leather jacket and miniskirt in place of Lyarra’s usual Chanel suit and kitten heels. Lyanna thought of her own wardrobe- sweatshirts, baseball caps, baggy jeans, her chunky combat boots. Would one day she’d throw it all away and put on a sensible skirt suit?

What made her mother do that? Four children in quick succession. Perhaps even Rickard. Her mother may have been a fun she-wolf for a bit, but when you married into the sort of established family the Starks were, even harmless eccentricities were looked down on. Lyarra fit the mold of all the moms in town, but Lyanna hardly fit the mold of all their daughters. That’d be Cat or Elia, happy to participate in rituals like debutante balls and prom, poised to take their mother’s pearls at any moment.

Lyanna walked across the room to turn on some music. She wanted something mournful to fit her mood. Perhaps the Joni Mitchell tape Barb had lent her. When she went to put the cassette in, she noticed Rhaegar’s tape still there. She ran her finger across the label that read “Rhaegar’s Songs Vol. 1” in his neat print. It was endearingly personal.

Even though she barely knew him, she wondered what he would think of her swallowing her pride for her parents’ preferred prom date. He did football even though he said he really didn’t care about it and hid his music from everyone. She didn’t know much about the Targaryen’s, but she was sure a lot of parents would be more approving of an athlete than a musician.

She took his tape out and put it into her Walkman. She was going to take her brooding on the road. She climbed down the lattice outside her window just for a bit of added fun and stepped into the grass. The spring evening was crisp and clear.

By her second lap around her block, the nausea over prom had faded into a faint queasiness. All she had to was take some photos and sit at a table for two hours. It wasn’t even Robby that bothered her as much as anyone, especially her parents, thinking she would just roll over and do whatever they wanted.

“You did roll over when you chose soccer over football all those years ago,” her brain told her.

But she hadn’t rolled over this time. She’d been bold and amazing. Being the first girl kicker for her high school would be so badass. Her dad would hate it. He’d say she was making a spectacle of herself. But she could handle him, she decided with renewed bravado. If she was going to prom with Robby, he owed her. She returned to her dark house with new resolve.

When she walked into the dark house, she was spooked by a “Hey, Lya.”

She looked into the living room and saw Brandon enjoying an ice cream sundae by himself, watching an _Andy Griffith_ rerun.

“Hey B,” she said. She walked past him to the kitchen. She looked in the freezer and saw the bastard took all the Rocky Road. She would have to settle for digging the chocolate out of the Neapolitan.

She silently padded over to joined him right as Andy sat down Opie for a good talk. Barb found Sherriff Griffith to be a total babe. Lyanna didn’t get it.

“Your tryout was really cool,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I’d put you on the team if you weren’t my sister.”

“Wow, double thanks.”

“There’d be locker rooms and butts and stuff,” he said, “It’d be too weird. Besides, the guys would be gross and then I’d have to kill them.”

“Well, you won’t be there, and I can kill any gross guys myself,” she said, digging into her ice cream. Damn, she got a bit of vanilla in, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“There’s nothing between you and Barb, right?”

“Why? Did she say something?”

“No, no, I was just wondering. Because you used to be friends when we were all younger and I saw you guys talking today…”

Brandon turned to look at her, the white light of the TV illuminating one half of his face, “What you saw is the full extent of me and Barb.”

“Okay,” she said, relieved, “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said.

“And you and Cat are all good?”

“Same as always.”

“Cool,” she said, “Just…don’t give Barb any ideas, okay? I think she has a crush on you.”

“I’m just saying my usual stupid stuff,” he said, “She knows that. She’s a tough broad.”

“I know,” Lyanna said, “Still. We’ve got a name to uphold. I’m already starting to worry about Ned.”

“Wait, Ned has a girl?” Brandon said, smiling wickedly.

“He has a crush,” she said.

“Who?”

She hesitated a little about sharing Ned’s secret, but she and Brandon always told each other everything, “Ashara Dayne. Don’t make fun of him or he’ll be furious with me.”

“Never. Scout’s honor,” he said, “Ashara? That’s adorable.”

“Be nice,” she warned.

“I will,” he said, “Props to Ned. I’ve hooked up with Ash. He has good taste.” Lyanna wasn’t surprised to hear that. Brandon had hooked up with lots of girls during his and Cat’s brief split. But he had been left clueless without Cat and had come crawling back soon enough. It was sort of sweet. Lyanna felt like Brandon was like her- they looked out for their siblings and the friends good as family and that was all the code they needed. It was why she would always forgive Brandon no matter how gross he could be. They were built the same. 

“I’m not sure if she’s his speed. We’ll have to find him someone nicer,” she said.

“I’ll add it to the list,” he said, “Lya?”

“Yeah?”

He opened his mouth and closed it. He smiled and said, “Nothing.”


	3. track 3: linger by the cranberries

When Lyanna got to school Monday morning, there was a note in her locker.

_How did you like the tape? –R_

She traced her finger over the neat script and wondered how to reply before she was rudely interrupted.

“What do you got there?” someone boomed in her right eardrum. She quickly crumpled the note before the speaker could get a look at it.

“Old math notes,” she said, “Hello, Robby.”

“So, Lya, I want you to be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“The best promposal of all time,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to go over the top,” she said, “Please don’t.”

“No, you deserve the best!”

“Really, I don’t like the attention,” she said.

“You’ll love it, I promise,” he said.

“I don’t think I will.”

“You will,” he said, “Just be ready.” He leaned in to kiss her and she dodged to the left. His slobbery mouth ended up somewhere near her earlobe. He winked as if that was what he intended to do and walked away. Lyanna wiped the spit out of her hair.

She grabbed a notebook for class, ready to make anxious lists of all the ways Robby might embarrass her in front of the whole school. She would have Benjen vote on which was most likely.

She greeted Ben at the blacktop table they shared for Biology. She had put off taking this class last year because she hated science, so she was with all freshman. It was a relaxing way to start the day though. Mr. Pycelle was really old and out of it most of the time, so she usually just zoned out.

She was on #5 of her list (Robby streaks through upcoming pep rally with “PROM?” shaved into his back hair) when she felt someone looking at her. She looked up to see QB1’s face through the window in the door. He inclined his head to say, “Come out here.” She got up and snagged the bathroom pass off its hook without a second thought.

“Hello,” he greeted. She wasn’t sure if he was being quiet because it was the hall during class time or because he always spoke softly.

“Hey,” she said, “I really liked your tape.”

“You did?” he said. She wondered if his surprise was an act. He was QB1 and a really good musician and a guy. He must be a little bit full of himself.

“Of course,” she said, “You can really sing.”

He smiled with his mouth closed, looking very pleased with himself, “I just started writing lyrics. Before that it was all instrumental.”

“Well, you should keep doing it,” she said, “I really liked the one song. Summer Fell? It had that cool piano section. And that opening line had a great hook.”

He grinned, showing off a set of astoundingly pearly whites, “You really did listen.”

“I said I did.”

“No, I mean, you _listened_. I’ve shown it to a few of my friends, and they’re supportive and all, but they don’t engage with it. Not that I’m this great musician or my work is all that deep. I’m just so excited to hear some real feedback.”

“I’m sure they’re great guys, but I can’t imagine your boys being all that artistic. My brother Brandon’s one of them, and I love him, but he only listens to, like, Dad Rock. Jaime Lannister seems more Nick Carter than Nick Cave.”

“You do stand apart from the crowd, Lyanna Stark,” he said.

Uh-oh. Did he think she was a total weirdo?

He sensed her embarrassment and backtracked, “I mean that in a good way. You’re candid. It’s refreshing.”

“Oh,” she said, “Thanks. Usually my mouth just gets me in trouble.”

“Well, you will never get in trouble with me,” he said.

“I would never make that promise,” she said, and he laughed, a real laugh, full and unconsciously. It felt like a rare thing for him.

“It feels like such a waste to meet you so close to graduation,” he said, “Where have you been?”

“Two cafeteria tables away with my little brother, Barb Ryswell, and Howland Reed,” she said, “You have no idea who they are.”

He smiled sheepishly, “I knew you had a brother.”

She laughed, “I’m two years younger than you, but we also live in a very small town. Knowing everybody’s name is part of the deal, especially for a Big Man on Campus like yourself.”

“I have a secret. I may seem exceedingly popular and well-liked, but in actuality, I only have three friends, and one of them is my piano instructor.”

“I respect that,” she said, “Friend to all, known to three.”

They walked around the corner of the hallway, marking their second lap, and Lyanna noticed the big purple sign saying _PROM!_ above the lockers. She groaned.

“What is it?” he asked. He noticed the sign, “Pining for a date?”

“More like trying to get rid of one,” she said, “I have been cajoled and commanded to go with Robby Baratheon.”

“Robby? Really?” he said, a bit amused.

“Not exactly my type, but he is a family friend.”

“I would not expect the girl who defied the gender roles of the patriarchal football tradition to submit so easily.”

“That is usually my way, but I would rather not incur the wrath of my fellow Starks.”

“Has he officially asked you yet?”

“No,” she said, “He had my _brother_ ask. He’s going to officially do it sometime soon, probably in a very public and humiliating fashion.”

“How bold of him,” he said, “If you could get out of it, would you?”

“Yes,” she said, not thinking twice, “I’d do anything short of poisoning myself.” She stopped outside of her biology classroom. She could see Benjen still working on his sketch of Pycelle as a literal sloth. 

“I think I've pushed the limits of my five-minute bathroom break," she said. 

"Afraid to break the rules?" he said. 

"No..." she said, "I just like to save my transgressions for special occasions."

"I see," he said, "I'll make sure our next meeting is more special." 

“I’ll see you around, Rhaegar Targaryen,” she said. His long, formal name sounded strange in direct address.

He gave her another cryptic look and said, “Later, Lyanna Stark.”

Rhaegar grabbed her for another first period stroll that Friday. Then again on Monday. Then he walked her out to the parking lot after final bell. Rhaegar kept reaching out to find her. It became sort of a thing- talking behind the athletic equipment shed, grabbing Slurpee’s while he drove her home, passing a football back and forth on the field. He lent her music he liked, and she argued with him about the NFL draft. They talked about wanting to travel the world and never settle down like their parents did, comparing lists of places they wanted to go. Lyanna felt there was something duplicitous in these meetings, something that made her conceal them from Barb and her brothers, but she did not know why. They were innocent enough, never leaving friend territory. Somehow, she doubted Rhaegar was sharing them with any of his pals either.

Part of the magic was the secrecy. Lyanna knew there was something special here. The oddness of these two strangers enjoying each other’s company, how deep they got so quickly. It wouldn’t make sense to anyone but them.

She was probably reading into it too much, but sometimes it felt like there was something Rhaegar understood in her and she understood in him. It felt so natural when they opened up and talked about bigger things- expectations, stereotypes, purpose. Like her, he got caught up on the little things, fights with parents and comments from friends. Even with the people she was closest to, Lyanna sometimes felt like no one was ever looking at her clearly, and that made her feel so lonely. A little bit doomed. There was always something torn deep down, and all of life’s smaller struggles tapped on that thing’s window.

Sometimes though she stared at Rhaegar from across the parking lot or cafeteria and watched him stare at something unseen. She did that all the time too, but no one ever said they noticed her doing it. She wondered if they were looking at the same thing.

After a few weeks, Lyanna and Rhaegar’s hangouts became totally divorced from school hours. One night she was doing homework in bed when the landline rang.

“Lya? Phone for you,” Benjen called. They were the only ones at home.

She picked up the phone next to her bed, assuming it was Barb who called almost every night, “Hey.”

“Hey, Stark,” a familiar smooth voice said.

“One second,” she said. She went to go close the door.

“Hey,” she said, voice lowered.

“What’s that?”

“Hi,” she said, returning to normal volume, “Sorry, I just didn’t want my little brother listening in.”

“I thought you guys were tight.”

“We are, it’s just…” There was no reason for this to be a secret. They were just friends, chatting on the phone.

“He’ll just bug me about it,” she said, casually.

“I get it. My little brother’s nine, and he’s always touching my stuff,” Rhaegar said. She laughed.

“What are you doing right now?” he said.

“Trig homework,” she said.

“Do you want to hang out?”

“Now?”

“Yeah. I could pick you up in like fifteen minutes. We could drive around.”

It was kind of late. Well, it was only nine on a school night, but her parents would see it as late. But they would be at the country club for at least another hour. And this was the first time Rhaegar wanted to hang out outside of school. If she said no now, he may never ask again.

Lyanna didn’t want that to happen.

“Okay,” she said, “You remember where I live?”

“Yep. See you then,” he said casually. When he hung up the phone, she leapt into action, discarding her pajama pants for the most form-fitting denim shorts she owned. Over her black tank, she added a flannel and a denim jacket and then took off the jacket. Usually, she would just slap a baseball cap on and get going, but instead, she brushed her hair.

Next, the alibi. She knocked on Benjen’s door and stepped in. He looked up from the Shakespeare play he was reading.

“Benjen, if mom and dad come home early and notice I’m gone, can you tell them I ran to Barb’s to grab a book I need for homework?” she said.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, “How long will you be?”

“Well, I’ll probably linger and talk. You know us,” she said. She had never lied to Benjen before, but he could never keep a secret.

“Okay,” he said casually.

“Thanks,” she said. Then she went to wait outside so it would seem like she’d started walking to Barb’s. Rhaegar picked her up in a few minutes.

“Hey,” she said pretending to be nonchalant. She liked the smell of his car- pine tree air freshener, leather, and cigarettes.

“Want to go to McDonalds?” he said. Apparently, he didn’t have to pretend to be nonchalant.

“Sure,” she said. He did a K-turn and sped away from her house. He had one of his own mix tapes in. She knew this Nirvana song, an underrated favorite. She turned it up.

“Were you really doing homework?” he said.

“Uh, yes,” she said, wishing she had a cooler answer, “What were you doing?”

“Trying to practice for my second audition at Julliard,” he said before breaking into a big smile.

“You got it? That’s awesome! Congratulations!” she said.

“I’m excited,” he said, “I’m going to have to find a way to get to New York. It’s in person.”

“A bus ticket shouldn’t be too much,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, “I might have to swipe some money from my dad’s wallet.”

“He wouldn’t help you out?” she said.

“He’s not really into my music. Or me, for that matter,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. She didn’t know what to say so she went bold, “So screw him and take his money.”

Rhaegar laughed. She was relieved she said the right thing. 

“You’ll be rich and famous without him,” she said.

“You’ll play in the Super Bowl, and I can be the halftime show,” Rhaegar said, “Dads' approval or not.”

“Yeah! Fuck dads!” she said, and she felt a tiny bit guilty which was dumb. She had lied to her dad literally last week. She had told her brother to lie to him tonight. Saying something he couldn’t hear didn’t matter.

Rhaegar pulled into the parking lot, where the glow from the golden arches illuminated some familiar faces.

“Fuck!” she said, sinking into her seat. Rhaegar stopped short.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“My brother Ned is here,” she said, sinking lower and lower until she was crouched under the glove department, “And I snuck out after curfew.”

“Doesn’t Ned have a curfew?” he said.

“My brothers’ is later than mine,” she said, “Which is some sexist bullshit now that I think of it.”

“Do you want to stop and discuss it?” Rhaegar teased.

“No! Has he noticed we’re here?”

“He hadn’t until you spooked me, and I stopped short.”

“Drive! Drive!” she said. Rhaegar softly accelerated again, and she saw him nod at the boys. She didn’t rise until they were safely in the drive-thru line and out of their sight.

“Add a vanilla milkshake to my burger and fries,” she said, “For my troubles.”

“Happy to,” Rhaegar said. He gave their orders. His own matched her except he opted for a strawberry shake. 

Lyanna crouched back down after Rhaegar paid and circled around to the exit but remained high enough to look in the rearview. Yes, there was Ned and that great buffoon Robby Baratheon.

“Would Ned rat you out? You said he was the nice one,” Rhaegar said as she pulled herself upright once safely a block away. Lyanna was a little surprised he remembered that.

“That’s the problem. He’s a bit of a goody-goody,” she said. He’d be so concerned she was sneaking out and with Rhaegar Targaryen, a male escort not sanctioned by almighty Rickard. Worse, Ned would tell Robby, and she didn’t know what jealous looked like on him. He was probably even more annoying.

“Does that make you the baddy-baddy of the family?”

“That’s so corny I refuse to acknowledge it. Even if he didn’t narc to my parents, Ned would at least tell Brandon, who’s super overprotective even though he gets into dumber doo-doo than I ever could,” she said.

“Saying doo-doo isn’t corny but baddy-baddy is?” Rhaegar said “I guess one could say Brandon loves a roll in the doo-doo.”

“Oh, yeah, you see him at parties and stuff?” Lyanna said

“Sometimes,” he said, “I don’t really do parties. Arthur drags me along.”

“I don’t really do them either,” she said although her reason was because she was never invited. Unless you count smoking in the woods with Howland’s friends from elementary school as a party, “Maybe I will once I don't have to worry about seeing my brothers at them. Where are we going anyway?”

“It’s a surprise,” Rhaegar said, “You’ll love it.”

He drove a little ways out of town, with no clear destination until he drove through open iron gates. They went down a long, dark gravel driveway with overgrown trees on both sides.

“Is this your house?” she said.

“No, I wouldn’t do that to you,” Rhaegar said. She didn’t know what that meant.

Finally, they came to an old white house with large windows, some broken. The paint was peeling in places. It was surrounded by overgrown hedges and an untidy lawn. She loved it.

“Whose house is this?” she said.

“This was Summerhall, sort of the Targaryen family home. It’s been here since the 1800s. There was a fire a while back with damage too expensive to fix. So now it sits in ruin.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Yeah, I think so too,” he said softly, “Follow me.”

Rhaegar led her to the backyard. A large pool reflected the moon. It was surrounded by more marble vases and angels and a couple dragons. The cherry orchard trees surrounding the concrete had shed pink petals on every surface. Rhaegar flipped a switch behind a stone dragon’s ear, and a light went on inside the pool, giving the whole place a soft glow.

Lyanna felt a childish presence overtake her by the sheer adventure of being in this lovely forgotten place. She ran around exploring, climbing the nearest tree, walking on the short stone fence around the pool, leaning down to splash the water, sending ripples through its smooth surface.

She looked over, and Rhaegar was smiling at her. He had taken a Polaroid camera out of his car and took a picture of her. She started to pose as he snapped away, shaking many developing photos in his hand at once. She walked back over to him.

“You love it too,” he said, “Thank you.”

“I just felt like I was five again,” she said, “In a good way.”

“Things were so much simpler back then,” he said, “No teams, no cliques. Our parents were still heroes, and we could grow up to be anything.”

She closed her eyes and tried to remember that time. When she would come back with her overalls all muddy and hair a mess and only get a loving smile from her mother. When Brandon still threw footballs with her and Ned let her go on bike rides with his friends. Sometimes she got so sad, and she wondered, when was the first time she thought life could feel heavy? It seemed like it’d been that way forever but thinking of that girl reminded her it wasn’t.

“Sounds nice,” she said.

She wished she could stay there forever. She forced all thoughts of curfews out of her head and thought only of the present- exploring the burnt house and jumping at every creak and the talking and talking and talking, about nothing and everything. It was their house now, their world, their night.

Rhaegar plucked at his guitar, trying to figure out how to play a song she’d told him she loved.

“But I'm in so deep,” he began, strumming slowly as he half-sang the words, “You know I'm such a fool for you…you've got me wrapped around your finger?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she said.

“What’s the next line?” he said.

“It’s the title, dude, come on,” she said.

He smiled and sang fully.

“ _You’ve got me wrapped around your finger_

_Do you have to let it linger?_

And then she joined in, with her own scratchy voice, “ _Do you have to, do you have to, do have to let it linger_?”

They went through the rest of the song, her voice alone when Rhaegar was concentrating on the chords. But by the end, Lyanna was dancing around the concrete and belting the words she usually sang alone in her shower.

She laughed at the end, and Rhaegar grinned at her, “You’re amazing.”

“Shut up,” she said, sitting down. She would have punched his arm, but the guitar was in the way, so she went for his shoulder. Instead of flinching away, Rhaegar covered her wrist with his hand and held it there. He slowly used his thumb to break open her fist and snaked his fingers in between hers.

“Lyanna Stark, you’ve done something to me,” he said.

What the hell do you say to that? She was no Juliet, no Molly Ringwald. Boys didn’t say stuff like that to her. She had no script, so she spoke the truth.

“I never want to leave this moment,” she said.

Then unconsciously, she leaned forward. Then he leaned forward. Their mouths hovered an inch away.

He was so pretty. She thought she was above falling for that girly nonsense, but he really was pretty. He made her remember who she was before she learned what boxes were and that she would have to submit to the pain of cramming into one or living with the shame of not.

But that old shame comes back and she remembers his girlfriend, beautiful perfect Elia who was nothing like Lyanna. She remembered that she was a Stark, and she wasn’t supposed to sit in an abandoned home well past curfew and kiss Rhaegar Targaryen.

“It’s getting late,” she said, and she flatters herself enough to think he looks disappointed.

“It’s getting early,” he said, “Dawn is coming.”

She looks at the horizon, and he’s right, it was growing a brighter blue.

“Fuck,” she said, “It’s a school night. School’s in a few hours!”

“I’ll get you back to your tower with plenty of time for a quick nap before homeroom.”

They sped back to the suburbs, and she looked at her muddy knees with dread, praying no one would be up, that no one had noticed she was gone. The lights were all off when she pulled up. She began to head into the house but remembered the wad of bills in her jacket.

“Here’s the money for the McDonalds,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she said.

“A lady never pays,” he said. She rolled her eyes at the sexism.

“If you insist,” she said, “I’ll get next time.” She added the last part because if Rhaegar always paid, it meant…well, it meant this was a date.

“Sure,” he said, which sounded perfectly friendly. Maybe it was all in her head. She turned back to the house, but then Rhaegar called out “Hey!”

“Yeah?” she said.

“Lyanna, do you really not want to go to prom with Robby?”

“I’d do anything on earth to avoid it,” she said, wondering why he asked about it now.

“Just checking,” he said, “Thanks for a great night.”

She smiled, “Yeah, you too.”


	4. track 4: f.n.t. by semisonic

Lyanna climbed into her bedroom window, expecting Rickard and Lyarra to be waiting there, furious, but all she saw was her unmade bed. After she showered, she went downstairs ready for the blow, but her parents acted business as usual when they bid her good day. Had it been that easy all along? An alibi here, a shimmy down a gutter pipe there, and no one would notice?

Well, except Benjen. He appeared in her doorway while she put her shoes on, they the last to leave the house. Ned and Brandon had morning practice, Father left for work, and Mom was at a meeting for the temple’s spring fundraiser. It was just her and Ben left to see themselves to school, as per usual since middle school.

“Late night?” he said quietly.

“Me and Barb got a little carried away,” she said, lying to her little brother with uncomfortable ease.

“Why, did anyone ask?” she said, testing the waters.

“No,” he said, “Mom and Dad were beat when they got home.”

“Cool,” she said.

“What were you doing?” he said casually.

“Talking boys,” she said.

“Oh,” Benjen said, “Gross.”

She laughed, “Yeah, want to hear more?”

“No thanks,” he said, “Especially if it’s about Brandon.”

“God, no,” she said, “Just…general boys.”

“Not about Robby, right?”

Lyanna threw a shoe at him.

That first time was so easy so Lyanna kept pushing her luck. A ride home with Rhaegar meant to be a trip to the library, an evening run turning into another night at his family home. Sometimes she had no alibi at all. The back door was so blessedly quiet, how had she never noticed? As long as she kept quiet and washed the smell of cigarettes off her clothes afterward, it was easy. It sort of hurt how easy.

Rhaegar didn’t call every night- _Elia,_ she remembered on nights he didn’t- but when he did, she showed up. She preened under his attention, embarrassingly but pleasurably. To him, she was funny, full of hidden talents, kind, smart. Most of it was probably just because they were still new to each other. But she tried harder to be her coolest, best self when she was with him. Barb would roll her eyes so hard if she saw how Lyanna melted for QB1, just like any other stupid girl at school.

Lyanna could barely keep her eyes open as she dressed herself for school. She and Rhaegar had snuck into the local ice rink and skated in the dark on borrowed skates. She had a big bruise on her knee from when she’d fallen but hadn’t felt any pain because she was laughing so hard.

“Lyanna, get down here _now_ ,” her mother called in the cold tone, even way worse than yelling.

This was the moment where it happened. She’d been caught and now was grounded for eternity. To do it before school was even crueler, forcing Lyanna to face eight hours of learning after being verbally drawn and quartered. At least it would be short. Undoubtedly brutal but must be done before eight. Unless this was a so-mad-time-no-longer-exists yelling.

Goodbye Rhaegar, it was worth it.

She walked down the stairs to face the music.

Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, dressed for work. Her mother looked wearied, as she stood behind his right shoulder.

“What’s up?” she said, turning her chin up as if she had nothing to feel guilty for.

“I think you know,” her father said.

“I don’t,” she said, “What’d I do?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” her father said.

“Lyanna, your father received a very distressing call just a minute ago.”

“From who?” she asked, hoping it was anyone who was not the police.

“Coach Hightower,” her father said smugly, in a ‘you’ve-been-caught’ way.

“About _what_?” she said, sick of how slowly she was forced to enter this trap.

“He informed me of your stunt at the football tryouts.”

“Oh,” she said. Football tryouts felt so long ago. She realized now Hightower had never posted the roster. Maybe he was waiting her out.

“He said that he suspected the signatures on your permission slip to be forged. Hightower and I go back a long time. As your entire tryout was a ruse and knowing myself, he was right to suspect you did not have parental permission.”

“It was not a ‘ruse.’ I tried out and I beat everyone fair and square.”

“Hightower said you did not reveal who you were until after the tryout ended.”

“He never would have let me try out if he knew I was a girl.”

“Exactly. Starks do not lie to get what they want.”

“His rules are unfair.”

“But you do not lie, and you do not forge signatures. The forgery itself has disqualified you from the team, even if I did not forbid it.”

She almost laughed in her father’s face. As if an honest request ever would have guaranteed her permission.

“Your rules are just as unfair as his!” she said, “You always forbid me from going out for football, even when I was six, even though I love it, even though I’m good at it.”

“A football field is not where I want my daughter. You could get hurt- “

“-It’s not like a kicker is getting tackled- “

“-I’m not talking about that,” her father snapped, “Boys are petty. If you were better than them, they’d come after you, take advantage of you. There’s bus rides and locker rooms and practices and a thousand chances to hurt you. Don’t think the coaches won’t turn a blind eye either.”

“I can protect myself,” she snapped.

“No, sweetheart,” her father said so fucking condescendingly, “Not from everything.”

“So what?” she said, “You’re just rubbing it in my face now? Yes, you’re the best at this but you’re completely helpless because you don’t have a penis?”

“Lyanna,” her mother scolded, “Your father is right.”

“How could you agree with this sexist bull- “

“The world is unfair. But we as parents do not want our daughter get hurt just to prove a point.”

“You hate me,” Lyanna said, and now she was crying which meant she was losing, “You hate everything about me.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” her father said, “We know what’s best for you.”

Lyanna wanted to guffaw. They don’t know her. They didn’t even know where she spent her nights. All she wanted right now was to find Rhaegar and go on a long drive while she ranted about all these injustices, or better go somewhere completely different and stay there. There were places where her oddity was run of the mill, but she didn’t live in those places.

“You don’t know a thing,” she said, and because she was who she was, she grabbed her backpack and stormed out of the house, running for a few blocks despite the discomfort with her Doc Martens and heavy backpack. Her heart was burning so hard. She needed to blow off the steam.

Lyanna had BO the whole day. Barb knew something was up as there was also a stinky odor in her demeanor, but Lyanna was too angry to answer any inquiries. Really, she didn’t want to cry in public, and she could feel tears at the brim whenever she thought too long on it.

She thought about the other girls.

Of course, there was perfect Cat, studying in the halls while Brandon tried to distract her. Her hair was in a neat ponytail, and she was both stylish and following uniform codes to a tee, with her department store baby blue cardigan and knee-length floral skirt. She gave Brandon enough of her attention to sate him but was really more dedicated to her flashcards.

What would her parents make of her if she was Cersei Lannister? Just as much a brat as Lyanna, but now gorgeous and popular and a cheerleader to boot. Maybe they’d be afraid of her, if she could be both stubborn as the devil but unimpeachable in all womanly aspects. Lyanna was tempted to change everything about her just to strike so much fear.

She reluctantly thought of Elia, who had won both Most Quiet and Most Likely to Succeed in the yearbook. When her father said no to something, Elia probably just nodded. Maybe she never even asked. Maybe she didn’t want the things she wasn’t supposed to.

Well, now, Lyanna was past hypotheticals.

Rhaegar made eye contact with her from down the hall. He winked. She smiled but widened her eyes in a frustrated manner- _just another day of BS._ He smiled sympathetically _\- keep your_ _chin up._

She tried. She fantasized about the severe yelling-at she wanted to give to Coach Hightower and great comebacks she wished she had said this morning. She strategized how she would punish her parents- cold shoulders, more time out of the house, even more ripped jeans and ratty flannels.

But it would be hopeless. Lyanna had her battles but they won all the wars.

Two more years, two more years and then she was gone. That salved her a bit.

She debated eating alone in the library so as not to inflict her bad mood on her friends, but she didn’t want to be alone. Lyanna went to her locker to see if she had enough coins to buy some fries. She had not grabbed her paper bag before she stormed out this morning. Brandon was waiting there.

“What,” she greeted.

“I’m sorry about the football thing,” Brandon said, “Dad asked me about it before I left.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Sorry. What happened?”

Coach Hightower basically said I was good enough to make the team, but he just _hates women,”_ she said, “Since I forged dad’s signature, he said I’m disqualified. As if you or Arthur Dayne couldn’t commit murder and not even get a detention.”

“He’s a dick,” Brandon said, “But maybe Dad had some good points. The guys would fuck with you so bad. Every practice would be hard.”

She squinted, “Were you the one who told Dad?”

“I’m not a rat. I told him I thought you deserved to play. You were the best, Lya.”

“Thanks, Brandon,” she said, her heart defrosting a little, “That means a lot.”

“Ah, hey, the whole wolf pack is here!” Robby yelled. He began howling as he crossed the hall to talk to them. Ned followed him, smiling sheepishly.

“Fuck off,” Lyanna said under her breath. She did not have the patience today. Robby didn’t even notice.

“Hey, babe, promposal in the works. Don’t think I forgot,” Robby said, “Just gotta be extra special.”

“I’m sure your two brain cells have been really hard at work,” she said.

“Man, you’re so funny,” Robby said, laughing. Could he ever take a hint?

“Hey, Lya, how are you doing?” Ned said sympathetically.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she snapped, “Don’t pretend you even care. You always agree with everything Dad says.”

“I don’t,” he said.

She pointed at Robby, “You do.”

“Woah, okay, let’s eat,” Brandon said but Lyanna wanted her last licks.

“Maybe girls like Ashara would like you if you didn’t act like a sixty-year-old man all the time,” she said before storming off for the second time that day before she could see Ned’s face turn full tomato. Brandon followed her.

“Harsh,” he said.

“Yeah, well, Robby was there, and it reminded me of the last time the Stark men conspired to ruin my life.”

“Ned didn’t have anything to do with the football thing.”

“He definitely agrees with Dad though.”

“He didn’t even say that. Give him some credit.”

“I don’t have to be nice. I’m the injured party here,” she said.

“Okay, I’m backing off before you bite my head off,” Brandon said as if this was funny.

“I should go tell my friends why I’ve been acting so pissy,” she said.

“Would they notice a difference from how you usually are?”

“Shut up,” she said.

“Seeya, Lya,” he said.

She went to her table and didn’t wait for anyone to ask before detailing the contents of her fight with her dad this morning.

“So, Hightower admits you made the team but that he’s just a misogynist?” Barb said.

“That’s what I said!” Lyanna said, “At least have the decency to lie.”

“Calling parentals is also a shitty move,” Howl said.

“Dad’s being really lame,” Benjen said.

“I want to go into the gym and yell in his stupid face right now.”

“The man wears cargo shorts all year round. His life is pathetic,” Barb said.

“You should steal his whistle. No! Get your own whistle and blow it in his face,” Howl said.

“I am going to edit my footage and make this into a documentary,” Barb said, “Or a news package. Let’s call the ACLU. This is a total Title IX violation.”

“Do you hear that?” Benjen said. They fell quiet.

The notes of an acoustic guitar had interrupted the usual ambient chatter of the cafeteria. Everyone stopped talking to find the source. 

_“Hey little girl, is your daddy home?_

_Did he go and leave you all alone?_

_I’ve got a bad desire_

_Oh-oh-oh, I’m on fire”_

“Woah,” Howl said.

“Oh my God,” Barb said, whipping her camera towards the source of the music.

_“Tell me now baby, is he good to you?_

_Can he do to you the things that I do?_

_Oh no, I can take you higher_

_Oh, oh, oh I'm on fire”_

“QB1 likes the Boss?” Howl said before being promptly shushed.

Rhaegar Targaryen was indeed making his way through the tables, playing his guitar and singing. Everyone looked to Elia immediately, predicting the end of another promposal. Elia was smiling but Lyanna thought she looked a little confused.

_“Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull_

_And cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull”_

Elia looked even more confused, as did everyone, when Rhaegar walked past Elia’s table. It almost looked like he was coming over to Lyanna.

_“At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet_

_And a freight train running through the middle of my head_

_Only you can cool my desire”_

“Shit,” Benjen said under his breath as it became 100% clear that Rhaegar was singing to Lyanna. He stood right in front of her and crooned, leaning down to make very direct eye contact with her.

_“Oh, oh, oh I'm on fire_

_Oh, oh, oh I'm on fire”_

“Hey Lyanna,” he said quietly, as if the completely silent cafeteria couldn’t hear every word.

“What’s going on?” she said.

He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled bouquet of blue roses. 

“Will you go to prom with me?” he said, smiling in a way that would probably dazzle someone not so completely mortified.

She was about to go “What the hell are you talking about?” when she saw Robby furiously making his way across the room, followed by a disappointed Ned. She thought of her parents’ expectations and Coach Hightower’s beet red face and she liked the idea of not doing what she was supposed to do for once. She wanted one single glorious win for Lyanna alone, that no other can claim, even if it meant someone else losing. 

“Yes,” she said, standing up to throw her arms around him and smiling brilliantly for the whole cafeteria to see.

Rhaegar smiled back, and Lyanna felt victorious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> if like me you love listening to people's writing playlists, here's mine for this fic, including songs in chapter titles, and others that fit the genre (although not entirely period accurate): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/685zPfQxxr4Yyk9Lxf6A9p?si=Skz2YKItTWqOHTVVUaTNsA


	5. track 5: bitch by meredith brooks

Ashara Dayne liked to think she knew a thing or two about boys. They certainly thought they knew a thing or two about her.

Oberyn told her she was bad. Jon told her she wasn’t as bad as she liked to think. Brandon said she was exactly like him. Arthur said she was the best person he knew.

People loved throwing things at her and seeing what stuck. She’d quietly sit back as these men composed soliloquys about her, but really about themselves. They loved the idea that a girl as pretty as her would listen to them.

Ashara liked to get people talking, asking question after question and recording what they said for the little log in her head. Everyone said she was a gossip, but she never made anything up and she really didn’t share much. Elia and Arthur were the only ones who listened to the listener. The reputation of her knowing everything about everyone was true. But it was only because they told her. People wanted to be seen, especially boys with their fragile egos, and if you offered that to them, they bared their souls pretty easily.

Yet even she, boy expert, was puzzled by Rhaegar Targaryen.

It was strange because they shared the same two favorite people - Arthur and Elia. He had been a constant presence since kindergarten, and yet, they had never meshed one on one.

She thinks he keeps it that way on purpose. It almost offended her. She doubted they would ever really get on, but she was always right there so why not be friends? Sometimes the vainer side of her said it was because he was attracted to her and didn’t want to start problems. More likely, he had something to hide.

She could hardly begrudge him his privacy. His family was filled with scandal and tragedy. His father was both a recluse and a constant newsmaker among the society circles. It was hard to separate the reality from the rumors. He started a fight at the country club He hit a car and kept driving, Worst of all, he was the one who caused the fire that burnt down their family home, the fire that killed his father and brother. If someone ever said something so awful about her family, Ashara would be wary of her associations too.

So, she didn’t blame him, but she was still curious. She knew the head-in-the-clouds thing was hardly an act, as Elia and Arthur confirmed he does it with them too. She knew he fights often with his father and will do just about anything to avoid his house, often sleeping in Ashara’s own basement. She even knew about the secret music aspirations. Elia gushed when he wrote her a song.

Ashara knew a lot about Rhaegar, but she did not know him. She could not predict what he would do or what he thought about. So, she certainly did not understand what the hell possessed him to serenade Lyanna Stark in the middle of the fucking cafeteria.

The moment he produced those stupid blue roses, she grabbed Elia’s hand and got her the hell out of there. Because everyone who wasn’t watching the spectacle over there was watching Elia to see her reaction.

“What. A. Wad. Of. _Dicks_!” Ashara said once they were in the girls’ bathroom. Ashara locked the door behind them.

“You’re not allowed to do that, Ashara,” Elia said.

“If they want to gawk at you, they can fuck off,” Ashara said, “Fuck. How dare he do that to you?”

“He told me he was going to take her,” Elia said, “I just didn’t think he would tell the whole school by singing Bruce Springsteen’s sexiest song.”

“Why would he take her?” Ashara said. Again, she did not know what the hell went on underneath that silver hair.

“You know I can’t go to prom,” Elia said. Her older brother Doran was getting married to a girl he met studying abroad, and the destination wedding was the same weekend, “He asked if he could take her, as friends.”

“And you let him?”

“Yeah, it would suck to go dateless to your senior prom,” Elia said.

“He’s dating you. It’s not like he has anything he should be insecure about,” Ashara said, “How do you know this girl is just friends with him?”

“Ash, I trust him.”

“But do you trust her? Half the school has a crush on Rhaegar. This girl could be trying to steal him away!”

Elia huffed stubbornly, “You can’t steal boys, Ash. That’s just in the movies. Rhaegar wants to be with me so he will.”

Oh sweet, sweet Elia. If only she’d heard the things boys told Ashara. She wouldn’t be nearly so trusting.

“Since when is he friends with Lyanna Stark?” Ashara said.

“Recently,” Elia said, “He likes her, but he doesn’t like her like that.”

Ashara tried to suppress her eye roll, “I’ve heard that girl is wild. Her brother’s a maniac. You remember how Brandon shot-gunned like fifty beers at my last party and then jumped into the pool from the roof of the shed. Oh, and I can confirm he’s certainly no monogamist.”

“What else do you know?” Elia asked, and Ashara saw cracks in her confidence.

“I know their parents are on the board at the club so they must have money. There are two other brothers who keep to themselves mostly. One’s friends with Robby B. which is highly suspicious.”

“What about her though?”

“She rolls with that stoner Howl Reed and that weird girl Barb. I think in the fourth grade she cut her own ponytail off in the girl’s bathroom. I thought I’d heard she was going to prom with Robby Baratheon. I’ve heard guys say she’s hot or whatever in an Alanis Morrissette way. I never took her for the slutty type since she dresses like a boy.”

“Rhaegar’s not like other guys. He wouldn’t fall for that,” Elia said, her trust returning.

“All guys are like other guys,” Ashara said, “Are you sure about this _,_ Elia?”

Elia’s eyes averted to the ground, but she nodded.

Ashara didn’t believe her. No one fucked with her best friend, especially not some weirdo sophomore, especially not some pretentious boy who didn’t deserve Elia in the first place.

After final bell, Ashara walked to the parking lot and went right up to Brandon Stark, surrounded by other football boys. Rhaegar and Arthur were conspicuously absent.

“Ash,” Brandon greeted with that annoying, wolfish smile. He really was quite hot. It was annoying because he was also quite a douchebag.

“B, what are you doing this afternoon?” she said, sickly sweet.

“Absolutely nothing,” he said without a trace of suspicion. Her best friend’s boyfriend and his sister just exhibited possible philandering in front of the entire school, and he doesn’t find it odd she chooses today to hang? His head was as thick as the dumbbells he lifted.

“I have an idea. Let’s go to your house.”

***

“Everyone is staring at us,” Barb whispered. It was true. The entire school’s eyes were now turned toward their little corner of the cafeteria, as if their table had just beamed down from Mars. People started chattering again, and Lyanna knew at least half the room was talking about her.

Rhaegar turned to Lyanna, “I’m going to stash my guitar and get a smoke in before class. Do you want to come?”

Barb and Benjen’s eyes were still bugged out at QB1. Across the room, it seemed like Ned had placated Robby.

“Yeah,” Lyanna said, “I’ll catch up, okay?”

“Cool,” he said, “Robby Baratheon’s not going to murder me, is he?”

“You can take him,” she said.

Rhaegar laughed one of his rare laughs and walked off. Lyanna relaxed once he was out of earshot. Even though they’d been hanging out so much, she still felt like she had to perform a cooler version of herself when he was around. She’d never had to do it for him with an actual audience.

“Lyanna, what the fucking fuck?” Barb said.

“Guess I don’t have to go to prom with Robby,” Lyanna said, with fake nonchalance. Her heart was still racing. She touched the roses in her hand, the physical proof that Rhaegar Targaryen really just asked her to prom.

“You knew he was going to do that?” Benjen said.

“No,” she said, “I mean I told him I didn’t want to go with Robby, but I didn’t think…”

“So much for being sick of promposals,” Benjen said.

“I didn’t know you guys knew each other,” Howl said.

“We’ve been hanging out since the football tryouts.”

“That was like a month ago! Why didn’t you tell us?” Barb said.

“I mean, it’s no big deal. We’re just friends.”

“We talked for an hour last week about your chin pimple. You didn’t think becoming friends with QB1 was worth mentioning?” Barb said.

“Are you guys like…” Howl said.

“No! We’re just friends,” Lyanna said, but her stupid cheeks get all red and hot. Rhaegar did just sing the sexiest Bruce Springsteen song to her in front of the whole school. Maybe he wanted to be like that. She thought back to the first time they hung out at Summerhall when they almost kissed. She’d never really kissed a boy before and didn’t know how to start, but sometimes when they were just talking in his car, she caught him looking at her like he wanted to lean forward just a bit and-

“What does his girlfriend think?” Barb said, breaking Lyanna’s train of thought.

“It’s not like that,” Lyanna said. It wasn’t. Because if Lyanna wanted it to be, it would be useless anyway, and that would make her pathetic and a cheater and the other woman, which she obviously wasn’t.

“So, you never hang out with her or any of his other friends?”

“No. I help him with his music. He can’t talk about that with them. We have a lot in common.”

“And you don’t have any feelings for him?”

Now Lyanna knew her face was completely tomato, and Barb had that smug look like she knew everything anyone’s ever thought. It made Lyanna feel so small and lame, right after the coolest thing that had ever happened to her.

“Shut up, Barb,” she snapped, “I don’t have to tell you guys everything I do or everyone I talk to. He has a girlfriend, and unlike some people, I don’t have useless crushes on guys who don’t even think about me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m saying I don’t come in every day and ask why you continue to have a crush on my brother like it’s not completely embarrassing for you. Now, I’m going to hang out with my _friend,_ Rhaegar, and I’ll make sure I write down every detail so you can judge it later.”

Lyanna snatched her bouquet and headed towards the parking lot. She passed people staring, and it was annoying because she knew she looked pissed off and they’d be thinking it was because of Rhaegar, and it wasn’t.

She made the mistake of making eye contact with a cheerleader who smiled at her and said “slut”.

Lyanna wanted to punch her teeth in but she just gripped her bouquet harder and kept moving.

When she arrived at Rhaegar’s car, he was smoking in the driver’s seat with the top down. She jumped into the passenger seat.

“Can we just get out of here?” she said.

He smiled and put the key in the ignition.

***

Sometimes Ned wished he’d been born into any family but the Starks.

At the very least, he wished he’d been born in any position but the middle child. It was so thankless. He basically had to be whatever his family asked of him (not that his siblings had the manners to ask). His dad asked him to be the responsible one since Brandon never would, to look out for Lya and Ben. His mom relied on him as the only one who helped her out around the house, the one who asked how her day went and showed up to her fundraisers.

From birth, he was the lame little brother following behind bold, cool Brandon. Ned chose to play lacrosse just so he could stop being subject to Brandon’s tackling practices. Brandon could treat people however he wanted, even their parents, and they loved him for it. Ned wondered how a girl with as much sense as Catelyn put up with it.

Then there was Lyanna, who acted like she was the one the family ignored. That was crap. Her only daughter status completely cancelled out her middle position. He knew his parents could be hard on her in ways they never were with their sons, but they were also obsessed with her. From the moment she was born, they paid attention to everything she did, hung on to every word, even when she was fighting with them. Lyanna never saw the moments after the fights, when Mom would shake her head and smile, a begrudging affection for her favorite adversary.

Ned was the same. No matter how difficult Lyanna or Brandon got, he loved them for it. Ned was boring, and they were special, and he was jealous and in awe of them. But life would be so much easier if he were not their brother.

Like this morning, he walks over to Lyanna and Brandon to say hi because he’s their brother, and Lyanna bites his head off and tells Brandon and Robby that he likes Ashara! The whole hallway probably heard it. Robby had been lording it over him all day. Then as if Lyanna hadn’t ruined his day already, she has to be the subject of a schoolwide scandal and take back the one favor she’d ever done for him.

“What is she thinking?” he thought to himself, as he watched his little sister make conversation with Rhaegar Targaryen of all people. How did she even meet him? He was a senior. It wasn’t like Lyanna went to parties or hung around with Cersei Lannister’s clique. She rolled her eyes at those people. One time their mom asked her to come to mother-daughter brunch at the club, and Lyanna said country clubs were for fascists.

“I’m going to kick Rhaegar’s ass,” Robby said, “Want to help?”

“What? No, Robby, that won’t solve anything.”

“We need to tell him to stay away from Lyanna. She’s mine!”

“We can’t fight him though. We’ll get in trouble.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” Robby said.

“I will talk to Lyanna and make sure she turns him down,” he said, “She already agreed to go with you. I’m sure she’ll keep her word.”

“I can still kick Rhaegar’s ass though. He shouldn’t even be looking at her. No guy should.”

“It’s not like you guys are officially dating or anything,” Ned said. This was a fact Robby often needed reminding of.

“You’re not?” Elbert Arryn said from across the table, “You sure made it sound like you were at Lannister’s last party.”

“You said she gave you a hand job,” Martyn said.

“What?” Ned said.

“Marty, you weren’t supposed to tell Ned!”

“It’s a lie,” Ned said, “It better be a lie or I’ll kick your ass, and I know Brandon will help.”

“Oh, so you’ll beat up your best friend but not the asshole who’s probably actually fucking your sister?”

The answer was yes. Ned punched Robby right in the face.

“Don’t talk about my sister like that,” Ned said. He’d never punched anybody before, not for real. Why did it hurt so bad? Ned swore and cradled his throbbing hand.

Robby barely looked phased by Ned’s fist, “You need to work on your punching, pal.”

“Take back what you said about Lyanna,” Ned said through gritted teeth.

“Okay, okay, I take it back. But look at Rhaegar’s smug face and tell me he’s not trying to do her.”

“I’m going to talk to her,” Ned said, but then the bell rang. He couldn’t find Brandon. Sometimes he skipped lunch to lift weights. Ned found Benjen in the crowd and touched him on the shoulder.

“Where is she?” Ned said.

“I don’t know,” Ben said, “I mean, she’s probably headed to class like everyone else.”

“What’s going on between them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you even know they knew each other?”

“No,” Benjen said, “Neither did Barb or Howl.”

“What?” Lyanna hogged the phone line almost every night just talking to Barb. Well, Ned had always assumed it was Barb. She had been staying in her room every night, door closed, talking to somebody.

“Are they dating? He has a girlfriend.”

“She said they’re just friends.”

“Oh. Okay, good.”

“Is Robby pissed?”

“I mean, yeah. Lyanna has to tell Rhaegar she already said yes to someone else.”

“Good luck with that.”

Ned groaned. For the rest of the day, he didn’t see Lyanna. He instead heard about her in whispered conversations by a lot of students who didn’t realize her brother was sitting right next to them. Figured.

At final bell, Ned stopped by Lyanna’s locker, but she after she didn’t show, he went to Benjen’s. She may be avoiding Ned, but she had to go home eventually, and she usually found that way home with Benjen.

“Hi, Ned,” Ben said, “I was going to come looking for you.”

“Why?”

“I need a ride. Can I hitch with you and Robby?”

“Why do you need a ride?”

“Lyanna and Barb had a fight during lunch, so I feel weird riding with her.”

“Does Lyanna need a ride too?” Ned said, the dread already pooling in his stomach.

“I think she might have ditched after lunch.

“What?” Ned said. The Starks weren’t saints, but missing school was the worst crime in their parents’ books. Unless you were dying, you went to school, and if you even tried to miss, you got a long lecture from their dad about walking miles in blizzards to get his education.

“I also think she might be with Rhaegar,” Benjen said.

“Damn it,” Ned said.

“Woah, Ned, was that a swear word?”

“Shut up. This is bad. Lyanna is going to…”

“What?”

“She’s going to get a _reputation._ The Targaryen’s are…Look, if we care about our sister, we need to keep her as far away as possible from him.”

“Do you really think that will work on her? A key part of us getting along is that I know better than to ever tell Lyanna what to do.”

“But won’t she listen to you if you do? If it’s really serious?”

“No. It’ll make her do the exact opposite,” Benjen said, “This is personal, anyway. It’s not really our business. If you tell her she can’t see him, she’ll just hate you, same as she hated Dad this morning.”

“What even happened this morning? She snapped at me and blamed me for something, and I had no idea what.”

“Lyanna tried out for the football team, and Coach Hightower and Dad forbade her from joining even though she was obviously the best.”

“What? When?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“Lyanna wants to play football?”

“Only since forever. You’re really out of the loop, man.”

It was true. Because Lyanna still thought of him as a tattletale. It’d been that way since he was six, when Ned told Mom that Brandon convinced Lyanna she should eat worms. He didn’t care if Brandon or Lyanna got mad at him if it kept them safe. Yet though Ned had always tried to protect Lyanna, she’d still favored Brandon.

Lyanna was not as grown-up as she thought. Did she know how the boys of this school looked at her? Robby was only the loudest of a whole choir of gross teenage boys that Ned and Brandon attempted to silence. Lyanna clearly didn’t know the obvious fact that Rhaegar Targaryen was trouble, especially to pretty, trusting girls like her. Maybe he was nice one on one, but that name brought fires and mysterious deaths to the mind of anyone in this town. It was the rare gossip Ned’s parents repeated to their children because they wanted to send a warning.

When they got home, Ned called for Lyanna, but she was nowhere to be found.

Ned waited an hour. Nothing. He knocked on Benjen’s door.

“Have you heard anything?” he said.

“You would have heard the phone ring, and believe it or not, Mom and Dad haven’t shelled out hundreds of dollars for me to get a cellphone yet,” Ben said.

“Can we stop joking? What if Lyanna’s in trouble?”

“She’s a big girl, Ned,” Benjen said, “She’s just doing her rebellion thing or whatever.”

Ned once again hated being the only Stark who worried when everyone else was blasé. He shut the door and considered calling Howland when he heard a noise from Brandon’s room. It sort of sounded like a girl’s laugh.

Ned didn’t know Brandon was even home. He knocked on the door. On the other side, he heard some moving around and Brandon’s voice. The door opened just a crack.

“Ned-o, what’s up?” Brandon said. He looked really sweaty.

“Uh…have you heard from Lyanna?”

“Nope,” Brandon said.

“Well, she ditched class and isn’t home yet. I’m kind of worried.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Brandon said. Behind him, someone sneezed.

“Who’s that?” Ned said.

“It’s just Cat. Let’s just keep it between us that she’s here, okay?” Brandon said. Their parents had a strict no-girls-upstairs-with-doors-closed rule.

“Okay, whatever,” Ned said, trying not to blush, “I’m really worried about Lyanna being with that Targaryen guy. If he’s cheating on his girlfriend with Lyanna or leading her on, she could get hurt.”

“I don’t think it’s that big a deal, but if you’re so worried, Ned, do something about it,” Brandon said, “I gotta go.”

Brandon shut the door.

Ned spent another hour waiting by the door with no sign. He wanted to take Brandon’s car keys and just go looking for her, but they were in Brandon’s room, and interrupting his brother and Catelyn again was a no-go.

But he had to do something. Both his parents weren’t supposed to be home until much later, and if Lyanna was still gone then, they’d ask how the boys just let this happen. Because Brandon was Brandon and Benjen was only fourteen, they’d really be asking how Ned let this happen.

Lyanna was still his little sister. There was one higher power she had to answer to. She may hate him after this, but Ned loved her with all his heart.

***

By 5 PM, Lyanna barely remembered that she was at the center of a West High scandal this afternoon. She’d almost completely forgotten that when the day began, she’d been so angry she never wanted to speak to her parents again. Only the chafing on her calves reminded her that she had run to school in her combat boots, tears running down her face.

All that mattered right now was Rhaegar. He saw her when nobody else did. He picked her out of the cafeteria and told her she mattered. Even if it made all of their friends and family and former prom dates furious, they had found each other. Fuck the rest.

They’d spent the afternoon driving around with the top down, drinking Slurpee’s, sometimes talking and sometimes just listening to tapes. Rhaegar told her he’d made this mix just for when she in his car.

As the sky started to turn orange, Lyanna felt reality creeping in. They had discussed absolutely but the prom and the promposal. She had some questions she needed answered, the same her friends had. She screwed up her courage to ask.

“So…are you still with your girlfriend?” she said.

“Yes. I told her I was asking you,” he said, “As friends.”

“Oh, yeah, as friends, of course,” she said, pretending that had been something she was sure of too, “I just didn’t know she knew.”

“Well, I didn’t tell her how I was asking you,” he said, “I thought if I told anybody, I’d lose my nerve. I’ve never played for so many people.”

“You played great,” she said, “That song…”

“I’m not really a fan of the Boss, too Fourth of July and whatever, but that song is my exception. Great lyrics.”

Her face was burning. Did he just like that song? Did he not realize he had sung a song that was about wanting to fuck a girl and what that might imply to both Lyanna and the entire school?

Maybe he was scared to say how he felt. Lyanna dangerously hoped that was true. She was lying when she denied liking him. This was nothing like childhood crushes, born out of surface-level curiosity. She knew Rhaegar. She knew his mysterious smiles, the way his eyebrows scrunched up when he played guitar, knew when he wanted to drop a subject.

Lyanna wanted him. Sometimes when he was talking, she just wanted to grab him and kiss him like they did in the movies. Which was so wrong. He still had a girlfriend. That was unbreakable law. Only the worst kind of girl went after someone already taken. Lyanna never even understood before how the Isolde’s and Marilyn Monroe’s of the world even lived with themselves after being on that side of adultery.

But, the bad part of her brain said, he wasn’t with Elia right now, and he wouldn’t be with Elia on prom night. She had a ridiculously girly fantasy of them kissing on the dance floor.

Maybe that fantasy only came true if she didn’t push him now. She could wait for him to share his true feelings. There was something noble and romantic in that restraint.

She asked Rhaegar to take her home well before her dad would be back from work and mom from some planning committee. But when they pulled up to the house, both their cars were in the driveway. Through the front window, Lyanna saw someone watching her.

“Shit,” she said. Maybe her parents wanted to talk to her about football again. Or worse, the school told them she ditched class, “When I get out, drive away really quickly.”

“What?” Rhaegar said, but she’d already jumped out the door. She looked at him, and he hit the gas, laughing a bit.

The front door opened, and she saw both her parents and Ned waiting for her.

“Lyanna Stark, you are in a world of trouble,” her mother said.

What else was new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/685zPfQxxr4Yyk9Lxf6A9p?si=qFjY_HIKQrSxDQW3qWloNg


	6. track 6: trouble by shampoo

It was the worst fight Lyanna ever had with her parents.

Worse than when Lyanna wanted to wear Ned’s jersey for her school picture. Easily beating out when her mom blamed Lyanna for a broken vase even though it was completely Brandon’s fault. Ten times as bad as dress shopping for her bat mitzvah when Lyanna did not want to look girly and poofy and stupid, and she didn’t care what her mother’s friends would say.

Lyanna could barely remember the specifics. Sometimes when she flew into her rages, it was like she was a ball of pure anger. There were no words said or heard, just fury directed and received. She wondered if it was so different from madness.

It was one of those fights that starts about one thing and turns into a condemnation of everything Lyanna is and has ever been. It was just the latest entry in the multivolume work of Lyanna disappointing every expectation they had for their only daughter.

When she was locked in her room later and the tears finally stopped, some details came back to her.

They saw Rhaegar Targaryen drive her home. They did not want her alone with him. She could not hang out with people they did not approve of. She especially could not ditch school to be with them. Ned had told them of that damning detail and that he believed she had snuck out to see him multiple times.

Rhaegar, although he was only 17, was just like his father. No one would tell Lyanna what Aerys Targaryen ever actually did to make Rickard Stark hate him so much, but it was so irredeemable there would be a blood feud forever. He probably stole his parking spot at the club or something.

By even being associated with the gaping vacuum of impropriety called Rhaegar, Lyanna had made a spectacle of herself. She had sullied the good Stark name, brought dishonor on all the Stark ancestors. They never actually said the word “slut”, but by being friends with one boy while also promising to go to prom with a family acquaintance, Lyanna was edging very close to slut territory in their book (that book written circa 1692). The ditching school, the football tryout, and the Rhaegar added up to her parents’ concern that Lyanna was becoming a troubled teen, destined for jail or drugs or premarital pregnancy. 

The final decree was this: Lyanna was grounded until the end of the school year. She could only leave the house to go to school. The one exception is that she was going to go to prom with Robby Baratheon. Even her phone calls would be monitored. Her father said he would call the phone company and have Lyanna’s line removed tomorrow.

Lyanna laid in her bed. She skipped dinner. No one asked her to come down anyway. She didn’t want to leave her bedroom and risk facing anyone, but she wanted to rinse her face, which was sticky from dried tears. She wanted a glass of water. It’d been a long day, but she couldn’t sleep.

The phone rang, and she heard Benjen’s voice yell “I got it!” But then she heard a soft knock at the door.

“It’s for you,” Benjen said quietly through the door.

Lyanna answered the phone on her nightstand, “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Barb said, “I heard you’re on surveillance. Let’s wait.”

There was the click of the other line being hung up.

“Okay, we’re safe,” Barb said, “I feel like we’re in a spy movie.”

“Why are you calling?”

“I’m sorry I was so nosy today,” Barb said, “You’re right. We don’t have to tell each other everything.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Lyanna said, “I mean, we don’t have to, but we do tell each other everything. We’re best friends. It’s the rules of engagement.”

“I was just so shocked. Also, like QB1? He’s insanely hot. He serenaded you and asked you to prom in front of the whole school! I should bow at your feet.”

Lyanna laughed a little, “It’s not like that, Barb. We’re just friends.”

“So, you haven’t done anything with him?”

“Like what?”

“Like sex?”

“No! Barb, do you think I’d be losing my v-card without freaking out about it to you first?”

“He’s just so hot! I’d have jumped his bones immediately.”

Now Lyanna was really laughing. No one could put her in a good mood like Barb, no matter how crappy she felt.

“We’ve done nothing. Well…we almost kissed once, but it was just a weird moment thing.”

“Oh my God! Lyanna, there is no way he isn’t into you. I could see it when he sang to you. Everybody could”

“Well, he has a girlfriend, and I have been forbidden from ever seeing him again so.”

“Yeah, Benjen told me your parents were pretty pissed. It’s so unfair.”

“It’s ridiculous. They never ask where Brandon or Ned go, who they hang out with. It’s like I’m the daughter so my reputation must be protected at all costs. I’m fifteen! They’re acting so medieval, but if this was really the middle ages, I’d be married with a kid by now. I’m basically an adult.”

“You’re so right. But, um, speaking of Brandon…”

“Barb, I’m so sorry about what I said at lunch. I was just being a bitch. I didn’t want to admit how I felt about Rhaegar so I said the most hurtful thing I could.”

“No, you weren’t wrong,” she said, “From how you see it, it makes sense you said what you said.”

“What do you mean?”

“So…over the summer, when you were at soccer camp, Brandon and I sort of hung out.”

“Um, okay?” It wasn’t the weirdest thing in the world. Barb lived in the same neighborhood. Their families were friends.

“And then we…more than hung out. Now we’re sort of a thing. Unofficially.”

It took a moment for the truth of these words to hit Lyanna.

“What the hell? That’s my brother! He is off limits!”

“I know, I know, Lya, but I’ve known him as long as I’ve known you. I don’t think of him as just your brother. Before we were even friends, he was always at my house, playing with my brothers and me.”

“Oh, so when you were four years old, you made a connection? How would you feel if I started hooking up with one of your brothers?”

“Be my guest. Then we’re even.”

“What about Brandon’s girlfriend? Did you think of how she would feel?” Lyanna said. She realized she was saying the same things Barb had said in the cafeteria today that had made Lyanna so mad. But Lyanna hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Maybe she’d thought about doing it a million times, but she’d never come close to actually hooking up with Rhaegar.

“Brandon doesn’t even like Catelyn. He just dates her to please your parents. It’s like an arranged marriage.”

“She still exists and has feelings!” Lyanna said, “If you didn’t think it was wrong, why have you been lying to me for what, nine months?”

“I’m sorry, we just knew you would be mad. Brandon wasn’t ready to break up with Catelyn yet. He wanted to wait until after graduation for us to start dating for real.”

“So, you’ve been seeing him all year?”

“Sometimes. When opportunity arises…”

“You mean when my back is turned. Barb, if he doesn’t like you enough to be seen with you in public, he doesn’t actually like you. He’s just a horny dickhead taking advantage of your feelings.”

“Well, if he doesn’t like me, then why did he have sex with me?”

Lyanna couldn’t believe those words just came out of her phone. She stared at it in disbelief. Sex? No, not Barb. All the magazines said sex changed everything. How could Lyanna not know it happened to her best friend?

“You lost your virginity without telling me?” Lyanna said. That’s what best friends were for. A girl losing her virginity was between her, the boy, and her best friend, and not necessarily in that order. There was no one else in the world Lyanna would tell before Barb when she had sex for the first time. This was probably the dumbest aspect for Lyanna to be mad about, but it hurt the most, even more than who Barb had had sex with.

“Lyanna Stark, I know you’re on the phone!” her father yelled from downstairs.

“I have to go,” Lyanna said.

“Rhaegar has a girlfriend too,” Barb said sharply. Like Lyanna, she always wanted the last word.

“Rhaegar cares about me, and we also didn’t have sex behind my best friend’s back so it’s not the same at all!”

Lyanna slammed the phone into the receiver. She had the last word but no satisfaction.

“Hang up the phone!” her father screamed from downstairs.

“I wasn’t on it!” she screamed back. Her heart was racing, all the anger and heat of the earlier fight returned to her body. As mad as she was at Barb, the person who really deserved her ire was right down the hall. Lyanna only had two friends she wasn’t related to, and he had to stick his dick in one of them? From the sound of it, he had then strung Barb along into believing he cared about her, even though she so obviously had feelings for him.

Lyanna always told herself Brandon was a good guy. Even as they got older and he clearly became a bit of a douche, he had always been good to _her_ , and she thought that love made his character sort of like Teflon. None of the stupid things he did stuck to him because of how much he meant to Lyanna.

Brandon was Lyanna’s hero. She loved him most, but that didn’t change who he was or what he did. It didn’t even seem to mean something to him.

Lyanna opened her bedroom door and stalked down the hall, blood pounding in her ears. She opened the door to his bedroom, but Brandon wasn’t there. Sitting on the bed instead was Ashara Dayne, flipping through one of Brandon’s car magazines.

Ashara Dayne did not look phased by Lyanna’s entrance. In fact, she seemed a bit pleased, smiling at Lyanna like she’d walked right into her trap.

“Brandon, your slutty sister is here,” Ashara said nonchalantly. Lyanna glared at her

Brandon stuck his head out of his bathroom. Maybe all his douchebag behavior stemmed from the fact that their parents spoiled him with his own bathroom from a young age.

“Lyanna,” he said in a whisper, “Close the door.”

Lyanna ignored him, “What the fuck is she doing here?”

He shushed her, “Please, please, please be quiet. Ash just came over after school, but then Mom and Dad and Ned were home early, and I can’t sneak her out without them asking a million questions or Ned’s poor heart being broken.”

“Why is she here in the first place?” The confusion of her presence had distracted Lyanna for a moment from her aim.

“We were studying,” Ashara said.

“Like I believe that,” Lyanna said, “Wow, Brandon, this isn’t even the shittiest thing I’ve learned you did today. Hooking up with the only girl Ned has ever liked comes in second to fucking my best friend!”

Brandon’s face turned pale, “You know about that?”

“You’ve been going with my best friend’s boyfriend behind her back,” Ashara said, “Loose moral code there, eh, Stark?”

“We are just friends!” Lyanna said for the thousandth time today.

“Like I believe that,” Ashara said.

“Why am I even talking to you? Why are you in my house?” Lyanna said.

“What’s going on? Who did Brandon fuck?” Benjen had joined the party.

“Barb,” Lyanna said, “More than once, I think!”

“You dick! That’s our best friend!”

“Hey guys, can we keep it down?” Ned said, poking his head out of his bedroom door.

“Shut the fuck up, Ned,” Lyanna said, “You’re a dick too.”

“You guys have a lot of issues,” Ashara said.

“Who said that?” Ned said. He came over to investigate, and his eyes boggled when he saw Ashara still sitting on Brandon’s bed.

“Where’s Catelyn? What are you doing here?” Ned said.

“Uh,” Brandon said, “I was talking Ashara here into going to prom with you, Ned!”

“Wait, which one’s Ned?” Ashara said, looking amused by the whole scene.

The one who was Ned was frozen in embarrassment. Lyanna would feel bad for him usually, but today, he was a loser tattletale, so she chose to pile it on.

“Hey, Ned, since you have to protect every member of this family from dishonor and shit, why don’t you go tell Mom and Dad how Brandon is the real family slut? I mean, he _actually_ cheated on his girlfriend at least twice, which is ten times worse than the nothing I did. Or does your sanctimonious virtue protecting only apply to sisters?”

“Brandon, what is she talking about?” Ned sputtered out.

“He’s been fucking Barb!” Lyanna said, “Even though he has a girlfriend! Even though Barb clearly has feelings for him, and this is completely manipulative!”

“Barb can handle herself, Lyanna. Maybe you should mind your own business,” Brandon said.

“This entire family is in my business all the time!”

“Hey, I didn’t tell Dad you tried out for football or that you sneak out all the time,” Brandon said.

“What the hell is going on up there?” their father screamed from downstairs.

“I’m just going to go,” Ashara said.

“Please wait, Ash. Just let me see if the coast is clear,” Brandon said. 

“What would happen if I just scream ‘Hey, Dad! Brandon has a girl up here’?” Lyanna said.

“Lysa. Please,” he begged.

Lyanna stared him down and then said, “It’s not like he cares what you do. Everyone always lets _your_ shit slide. I did too. I asked you if anything was going on with Barb, and you looked me in the eye and lied to me. Life’s going to catch up with you, Brandon. It only hasn’t yet because you’re a rich jock with a penis. I’m going to bed. I’ve had a long fucking day.”

“Lya, wait,” Brandon said, and he might have looked sorry. She wouldn’t know though. It’s not like he’d ever looked sorry before. 

“Don’t talk to me,” she said. She pushed past Brandon and stupid Ashara Dayne, went into her room, and slammed the door.

***

Ashara almost felt guilty when Lyanna Stark slammed the door. Ashara had been the one to bring the battle into the girl’s own home. She hadn’t meant for that to happen. Ashara was supposed to quickly hook up with Brandon (the gods truly gave with one hand to that boy, the gift being such marvelous hands). While he pissed or got a snack, she would look in Lyanna’s room to gain intel on the enemy and some evidence of adultery. All she found was grunge cassette tapes and dirty laundry.

Then, Mr. and Mrs. Stark had come home early to, from what she could hear behind Brandon’s closed bedroom door, scream at their daughter like the sheer force of the sound waves could smite Rhaegar off this earth. And that girl screamed back like she was trying to do the same to them. Brandon just stared straight ahead and dared Ashara to comment on the noise as if it was anything out of the ordinary.

Ashara knew the deal. Rich people were all the same kind of crazy, tight-lipped like movie mafiosos about strife and family scandal, able to ignore a house burning down around them because God forbid if they screamed, it would create a stir.

She was glad that despite their money, the Dayne’s weren’t the type to keep skeletons they desperately closeted. Her parents never fought and acted like freshman in their first relationship, all kissy and affectionate. They were the type to do family camping trips and actually enjoy each other’s company. Even her literally closeted brother kept getting kind-eyed hints from Mom that he could share anything with her. Ashara often wondered how she ended up so sarcastic and cynical.

Ashara’s parents had been the first black couple to join the local country club. Her dad didn’t even golf. It was a matter of principle that a lawyer and doctor (yes, just like the Huxtables) enjoy the same recreation that every other wealthy family in town did. Although they had rocked the boat in the name of equality, Mr. and Dr. Dayne did not try to upset the status quo further by holding other families to their standard of emotional openness. Ashara had learnt at her mother’s side not to comment about what happened behind the rich white people’s closed doors, even if you were close enough to hear and knew it was pretty fucked up. If you couldn’t help it, the kindest thing you could do was not bring it up in polite conversation.

After the screaming ended, Ashara could hear the girl wailing a few doors down. If it was Elia in this situation, not that it ever would be, she would softly knock on the door and ask the weeper if she was okay. Ashara didn’t do stuff like that.

Brandon kept checking to see if the coast was clear but deeming it not. Ashara sat on his bed with shoes and jacket on.

After the confrontation of the siblings, which had given her so much information Ashara could live without, she just walked straight down the stairs and out the front door. If the parents saw her, she wasn’t sticking around for the fallout.

It was late when she got home. All she wanted was a shower and to collapse into bed. In the way of that was her twin, Arthur. 

“Ashara, where have you been?” he said. He was sitting in the dark, watching the end of _Cinderella,_ the new one with Brandy and Whitney. They had all seen it a hundred times because of their little sister Allyria, the happy accident currently asleep on Arthur’s chest.

Ashara sat down next to him and started gently combing through Allyria’s soft hair with her fingers. 

“I lied with dogs, I woke up with fleas,” she said.

Arthur smiled, “Okay, Shara.”

Ashara remembered then that she was still mad at Arthur by proxy, “What happened with your boy?”

“Ash, I really didn’t know,” he said, “You know, I’ve been spending less time with him lately.”

“Did he say anything to you afterwards?”

“I didn’t see him. I think he ditched. He’s been doing that a lot.”

“He has,” Ashara said. The two of them had Advanced Placement Literature together, “I thought he was too nerdy for that.”

“Senioritis, I guess,” Arthur said.

Ashara mentally pardoned her brother for Rhaegar’s crimes. He was clearly clueless.

The next day at school, Elia was acting like yesterday’s promposal never happened. Before homeroom, she and Rhaegar played happy couple by her locker. He kept an arm around her like he was contractually bound. The big seniors pep rally was that afternoon. All of Ashara’s girls were enjoying being in uniform. Elia talked about how exciting this day had finally come, reinforcing the pep and daring anyone to contradict her spirit. Rich people and denial, once again at work. 

Brandon grinned at her across the aisle in Home Ec, as if watching his family implode was all sexy fun times. She did not see Lyanna and wondered if she ditched.

At lunch, football and cheerleaders gathered around Elia and Rhaegar in a true united front. Ashara came late. Alerie Hightower had stolen Ash’s usual seat next to Elia, but Ashara didn’t feel like making her move. The girl and her weirdo sister would probably hex her fingernails to fall off. But that meant Ashara was left to sit next to Barristan Selmy, fifth year senior. Usually, Ashara would find an older man a little sexy, even one who was only nineteen. But something about the sadness of submitting yourself to an extra year of high school and the fact that he was obviously in love with her was off-putting.

She politely answered his questions about her classes, her salad, and the weather. But then things took a turn for the pathetic.

“So, Ashara, um, do you have a date for the prom yet?” he said.

The truth was Ashara did not. She wasn’t embarrassed of this, per se. Most of the reasons tied to a girl going stag- unfortunate looks, no boys interested- obviously did not apply to Ashara. Yet, here she was, dateless. It turns out prom dates did not just happen via alchemy when you were pretty and popular.

Now the entire table was trying to surreptitiously listen in on her answer. Ashara had put this off for months, but prom was next week. She really didn’t want to go with the desperate Barristan, but who could she name and know they’d say yes? Baelor Hightower? No, not since she called his sister a weirdo for a whole year. She probably would have asked Oberyn if not for the stupid wedding. Every decent option passed through her head, and she realized they were all taken. All the West High males had been scooped up.

Truly, Ashara didn’t even want to go to prom. Corny shit like that was only ever fun with Elia. If Elia was there, they would spend hours getting dressed up together and ditch their dates to dance to Salt-N-Pepa.

Ashara could save her dignity by saying prom was beneath her. She could rag on the entire institution and say she’d only be seen at the after-parties. But then who would watch Rhaegar and make sure he didn’t cheat on Elia?

She looked across the cafeteria. Brandon was sitting with his girlfriend, Cat Tully, and her sweater set sisters. He was smart to avoid Rhaegar and Elia. He was such a bonehead albeit a bonehead with very fine bone structure. He had that wild card thing about him. Yeah, most of what came out of his mouth was idiotic, but he was never predictable. He had unexpected multitudes. They’d actually had a brief fling sophomore year before he went back to the biggest prude at West High. It was the only time Ashara had ever been rejected.

The whole table was still waiting for her answer. Ashara did not know how to abstain from prom night without feeling lame. It was stupid to even care anymore, she was graduating in a few weeks and going to college. But she also couldn’t let Elia down by not keeping an eye on Rhaegar’s wandering eye. That was when she remembered something Brandon had said the night before to a blushing little brother.

“I have a date in mind,” she said.

“Who is it?” Cersei Lannister said. She had so much nerve for a junior who still teased her bangs.

Ashara ignored her, “I think I’ll take Ned Stark.”

Arthur was hiding his laughter. Rhaegar looked afraid. Elia had on one of her “Oh, Ashara, what are you up to now?” faces.

“You’re going with a junior?” Cersei scoffed, as if she herself was not a junior desperately angling for a senior to invite her to prom.

“What’s wrong with that? He has a huge penis,” Ashara deadpanned. Arthur couldn’t hold it in any longer. He started cracking up. Elia was both scandalized and amused. Rhaegar said nothing, but the rest of the boys looked shocked that their greatest asset was being appraised so openly.

Ashara smiled smugly at her own genius. Her rumor would fire an indirect but palpable hit on the Stark family. She gave cause for insecurity to big brother Brandon and a high honor to little brother Ned, the one teenage boy who would be more embarrassed than excited by such a rumor. Yet, he would almost definitely accept her prom invitation, given everything she knew of shy boys with desperate crushes. Now, Ashara would be the plant in the Stark party, assuring Lyanna stayed far away from Rhaegar. 

***

If there was one maxim Lysa Tully had carved into her girlish heart after wearing out all her Disney VHS tapes, it was that you never gave up on love. Despite everything that happened this year, Lysa still believed in that.

Lysa often thought of herself as Cinderella, except her wicked stepsister was a blood relative. Catelyn didn’t even have to do anything to Lysa. The fact that she existed was wicked enough. Her whole life people had told Lysa to be more like Cat, but Mother Nature and the Fates decreed it would never be.

If Catelyn was a Barbie, Lysa was the weird knock-off doll sold at the grocery store. Where Catelyn’s skin was fair and rosy, Lysa’s was blotchy and pimply. Catelyn’s hair was copper, neat, and always styled modestly. Lysa couldn’t even get a comb through hers, it was so curly. The hairdresser kindly called it strawberry blond, but Lysa thought it looked khaki. Sometimes she felt like she was trapped in that stupid Dolly Parton song her mom sung in the mornings while making pancakes.

_Your beauty is beyond compare_

_With flaming locks of auburn hair_

_With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green_

Their father was so strict about what they wore that Lysa couldn’t even try to improve her looks with fashion. Catelyn somehow made cardigans and long skirts look stylish, even when all the other popular girls were in baby tees and miniskirts. When Lysa had to dress that way, she looked like a freaking Mormon.

Every Sunday since she was eleven, Lysa sat in the first pew at First Presbyterian with her entire family and prayed to become popular, beautiful, and get a boyfriend. When long-awaited Puberty finally came this summer, none of her prayers came true. Instead of making Lysa into Ginger Demi Moore, she looked exactly the same plus severe acne, two inches of height, and D-cups. True, she had prayed to grow boobs, but the damned things just gave her back aches. No popular boys even noticed them, only creepy old men in the grocery store.

The only boy who ever noticed her was Petyr. _Petyr_. He was a sophomore and so smart and funny. Petyr wasn’t as good-looking as Brandon Stark or Rhaegar Targaryen, but when he said something clever, his eyes would sparkle. He had grown up down the street. Lysa always thought it was romantic when people ended up with their childhood sweethearts.

The only hitch was Petyr’s childish crush on Catelyn. Lysa couldn’t hold it against him. It was a law of nature that everything Lysa wanted, Cat just got.

_Your smile is like a breath of spring_

_Your voice is soft like summer rain_

_And I cannot compete with you, Jolene_

It didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be together. Once Catelyn had departed for Northern State, Lysa would be free of that constant benchmark. Petyr would be less distracted and could see how pointless pining over Cat was when Lysa was right there.

The crush had definitely lost some fervor after that disaster a couple months ago when Petyr had asked Cat to prom. He’d gotten her flowers and a grocery store sheet cake with “PROM?” in blue icing. Lysa had heard about every step of his planning. She’d even been the one to hit play on his boombox so “I Ran” was blasting as he walked into their backyard.

Of course, Catelyn said no. This would have been plainly obvious to anyone but Petyr. She did it in the most Catelyn way, sounding so genuinely flattered and speaking so gently that it didn’t even sound like rejection. But, of course, she was already going with Brandon. If she wasn’t though, of course, she would have loved to have gone with Petyr.

Unfortunately, Brandon was less kind. He wasn’t supposed to be at their house that afternoon, but he had shown up a few minutes before to drop something off, and Lysa couldn’t warn Petyr in time.

Oh, if only she could have spared him from Brandon’s mocking laughs. He could have dealt with the rejection in private, maybe cried on her shoulder. Petyr detested the cool, handsome jocks like Brandon, probably because of Brandon, who had owned Catelyn’s heart since childhood.

Petyr’s pride was a fearsome thing. It couldn’t take in this hit without hitting back. So, that’s what he did. 

Lysa had seen Brandon on the football field. She’d seen many an away team’s players suffer his freight train tackles. Petyr was a 5’5” asthmatic. He didn’t stand a chance.

Brandon didn’t even have to break a sweat. He smacked Petyr’s fist away like a fly, returned with a single punch, and Petyr was on the ground.

“Brandon, leave him alone!” Catelyn said, “Let’s go inside. I’m so sorry Petyr.”

“He swung first,” Brandon said, shrugging. They walked away, leaving Petyr in the dirt.

Petyr rolled over, his nose red and bloody. Lysa ran to him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Lysa said.

“Screw you!” he said. He stood up, clutching his face and stormed away.

Later, she went to his house to check on him. His mom opened the door, said he had taken a lot of pain medication and was likely asleep.

He wasn’t though. He had smiled at her, now serene from the meds, though his face was a bandaged, swollen mess.

“Oh, Petyr,” she said, “I’m sorry for what that barbarian did to you. Catelyn’s an idiot.”

“Catelyn,” he said, “I knew you cared.”

“I’m not…” she said, but he was looking at her with so much affection. Like Lysa was the best thing in the world.

She took his hand and kissed it. For an hour, she whispered sweet comforts and no corrections.

_He talks about you in his sleep_

_There's nothing I can do to keep_

_From crying when he calls your name, Jolene_

Lysa came back the next day and the next. They spent even more one-on-one time outside of his house too, as Catelyn no longer accepted Petyr’s rides to schools, instead having Brandon drive all the way across town to pick her up.

If Petyr put together that that had been Lysa the first night, he never acknowledged it. He was quiet, as always, but more open to her touches. One day, they were sharing his bed, doing homework side by side, and he leaned over and kissed her.

It wasn’t her first kiss. That had been Petyr too, when she was six, during a game with Catelyn.

Now, they were basically adults so there was tongue. They made out for a little bit, Lysa anxious the entire time if she was terrible at it. Petyr muttered little instructions, like move your head to the left or tie your hair back.

Since then, they had progressed. Petyr’s parents worked late. Lysa finally had a reason to be grateful her boobs came in when she saw the way Petyr looked at them. Last week, Petyr had slipped his hand under the waistband of her shorts and played with her. It hadn’t been as nice as when Lysa did it to herself, but just the feeling of him wanting her in that way was pleasurable enough.

No one knew but them. Lysa wanted so badly to be one of those couples who claimed each other with locker-side kisses and shared tables in biology class, but Petyr told her no one could know. Her dad was so strict about dating and specifically wouldn’t approve of Petyr. Her father’s standards were ridiculous. Just because Petyr’s parents couldn’t afford the country club didn’t mean they were beneath anyone.

“You’re a Tully,” he’d say in that lofty tone, as if having your family come over on the Mayflower made you royalty. It’s the freaking 90’s, Dad. Nobody cares!

Yet, there were other ways Lysa could show she wasn’t Catelyn’s prim little sister anymore. She put to use her mother’s sewing lessons to hem some of her skirts a little higher. When she got to school, she ditched the cardigans her father made her wear over her tank tops. Air conditioning be damned. She found a black eyeliner pencil abandoned in the girl’s locker room and started putting it on before homeroom, smudging the line just a tad like she’d read about in Seventeen.

Her dad was slow on the uptick, but Catelyn noticed Lysa’s new look. She just raised an eyebrow the first time she passed Lysa in the hall, like she spotted Lysa trying on Mom’s heels and thought it was funny. It made her so angry. She wanted to scream, _Just because I don’t dress like Nancy Reagan doesn’t mean I look bad!_

Catelyn would never wear black eyeliner. But Lysa liked how it made her blue eyes pop. They were her best feature. If Lysa couldn’t have Cat’s obvious beauty, she could maybe use smoke and mirrors just to make people look. Girls like Lynesse, the most popular girl in the freshman class, did that. She really wasn’t very pretty, not like Ashara or Cersei, but boys looked at her anyway thanks to that Wonderbra and Brown by Bobbi Brown lipstick.

Before she graduated, she just wanted one boy to do something half as romantic for Lysa as Rhaegar Targaryen did for Lyanna Stark. Lyanna was the worst, most jealousy-inducing type of girl. She was pretty even with no make-up on and when she didn’t brush her long brown hair. She had that same piercing Stark bone structure that Brandon had. That tomboy in oversized t-shirts and baggy cargo pants had somehow caught the eye of QB freaking 1. She was like Catelyn, born to be loved while Lysa and the rest of the world had to fight so hard for it.

In homeroom the next day, Lysa overheard a girl saying Elia Martell was going to have to fight Lyanna. It was a well-known fact that Elia Martell had a heart murmur so that seemed unlikely. She’d probably try to destroy Lyanna emotionally to reassert her popular status.

Their parents were friends so Lysa had met Lyanna many times. As kids, she had been put off by the rough-housing Lyanna and her brothers got into. At Lysa’s own First Communion party, Lyanna had knocked Lysa out of the bouncy castle, and when she landed on the ground, her white dress got all dirty. Lysa had more of a connection to her than most of the school. In ten years, she'll probably be sitting across from this girl at Thanksgiving while Brandon and Catelyn’s five kids run around. They hadn't really spoken in years, yet Lysa's proximity to the girl at the center of the school’s attention excited her. It made her feel seen, and just a little dose of that feeling was intoxicating, creating a humming excitement that followed her all day.

Some of that excitement stemmed from the upcoming pep rally that afternoon. Lysa loved pep rallies, as corny as they were. It was one of her favorite things about high school. She liked how the whole day felt loose because of the shortened class periods. The chattering energy of the students released from class and looking for their friends, the marching band’s drums and the chanting cheerleaders. Lysa wanted to try out for cheerleading so bad, but her dad said their outfits were too revealing.

The only downside to pep rallies was that you were forced to sit with your class. It wasn’t strictly enforced, but all of Lysa’s classes were with freshman so it would look odd if she walked across the whole gym to join Petyr on the sophomore bleachers. She just hadn’t made that many friends this year. There were girls she knew well enough to partner up with for projects, but no one to coordinate rides with for dances or go to the mall with on the weekends. Catelyn had a posse of honor-roll-but-not-nerdy girls. There had never been a weekend where she didn’t have someone to make plans with, even if she turned them down to study alone or accompany Mom to a fundraiser at the club.

Petyr made eye contact with her as he was walking in. He made a face like he was being strangled. Petyr, of course, hated pep rallies, along with anything supporting athletics or school spirit.

Today’s pep rally wasn’t for a season of sports but instead for all the senior athletes collectively. The year was coming to a close. Seniors had started sporting crewneck sweatshirts with the names of their chosen colleges across the chest. Teachers warned of finals, but the increasingly warm weather beckoned students’ attention to the outside world. Lysa couldn’t believe this time last year she was about to finish middle school. She felt so much more grown up now than she did then.

The rally started with the marching band’s rousing rendition of “Addicted to Love”. Principal Merryweather gave a big speech about how the class of ’97 was the best ever!

Then one by one, the principal called the names of each teams’ seniors so they could cross the gym to varying amounts of applause and pom-pom shaking from the cheerleaders. Some of the jocks hammed it up. Robby Baratheon from the lacrosse team whooped for himself and grabbed Ashara Dayne’s pom-poms, waving them around in a mocking imitation of cheerleader choreography.

Finally, there was the real stars, the football team. Principal Merryweather made a big speech about how their seniors had led the team to three state championship trophies in the past four years, as if anyone could forget with the banners everywhere celebrating it and the players being worshipped like actual gods.

Today, those gods came down from Olympus. The marching band blasted “Jump Around” and the crowd answered the call. The cheerleaders had saved their energy so they could bring their fiercest high kicks, straddle jumps, and woo’s for their boys. Even the apathetic goth kids were forced to their feet, if they didn’t want to have their toes jumped on. This is what Lysa loved most about pep rallies, the feeling of equality, that everyone was part of this feeling. Yes, that adoration was directed mostly towards a bunch of douchey boys who were just really good at running and catching, but for a few moments, it made everyone united towards one cause.

Well, almost everyone. Brandon led the senior boys, dancing through the cheerleaders in a style that involved a lot of gyrating hips. Lysa could see Catelyn in the senior section, laughing with her hand over her mouth, like she was embarrassed she found it funny.

Barristan Selmy waved modestly as he crossed to ample claps. They let Jaime Lannister walk too, even though he was a junior graduating early. He was _so_ good-looking. She had the biggest crush on him when she was in sixth grade, as he was far and away the hottest eighth grader. He’d only gotten handsomer, with swoopy blonde hair that reminded Lysa of Brad Pitt in _A River Runs Through It_. Next to last, running back Arthur Dayne was heralded as the conquering hero. Principal Merriweather shouted his stats over the cheering crowd.

Everyone knew who the closer was. QB1 and public enemy number one to most of the female population. He currently stood alone at the far corner of the gym, where every other athlete had already crossed from. Merriweather began his hype-up and the band played, but then another sound roared from the speaker system before Merriweather could even say Rhae.

_“Everybody!”_

The room laughed at the familiar song. A few people caught on quick enough and sang back _“Yea-ah!”_

_“Rock your body! Yeah!”_

Principal Merriweather was saying something, but his mic had been cut off. The band had stopped to so all that was heard was the Backstreet Boys’ singing and the chorus of students joining them.

_“Everybody!_

_Rock your body right_

_Backstreet's back, alright!”_

_“OH MY GOD, WE’RE BACK AGAIN!”_ Over the Backstreet Boys’, Robby Baratheon scream-sang into a microphone, running into the center of the gym like it was his personal stage.

_“Brothers, sisters, everybody sing_

_Gonna bring the flavor, show you how_

_Gotta question for you better answer now, yeah”_

The school hooted at Robby, as he moved his brawny body with the confidence only very hot boys in Varsity jackets possess. Behind him were four other LAX boys, laughing at themselves while doing a weak imitation of the Backstreet Boys’ choreography. 

Then one of the boys ran off and came back carrying a big, crumpled purple banner that said was PROM! in big bubble letters. Robby turned his gyrating to the sophomore section.

“ _Am I original?”_

_“Yeah!”_ the school sang back. Even the teachers seemed to find this hilarious.

“ _Am I the only one?_ ”

_“Yeah!”_

_“Am I sexual?”_ Robby thrust his hips in the crowd’s direction. He was making his way through the bleachers, students backing away to clear his path upwards.

“ _Yeah!”_

“Lyanna Stark, am I everything you need to go to prom with me?” he said over the real lyrics. He had indeed stopped in front of Lyanna fucking Stark. Of course! Some girls got everything.

He held the microphone in her face. The track was still playing.

_“Everybody!”_

“Uh…”

_“Rock your body!”_

“Robby…”

Oh my God. She was going to say no. Why had Robby even asked her, after she accepted Rhaegar’s promposal yesterday? It was all so awkward, but Lysa couldn’t look away.

_“Everybody!”_

“Okaaaaay,” Lyanna said meekly into the microphone.

Robby whooped. The entire school applauded. Lysa exhaled. The world had been reset, time turned back, all was right.

_Backstreet's back, alright!_

The school kept singing along. Lysa searched the gym for Rhaegar Targaryen. He wasn’t standing around still waiting. The final bell rang, and the pep rally de facto ended without QB1 getting his senior salute. Robby must have planned it that way. Was it jealousy? It was sort of mean, even considering Rhaegar had carried out a similar betrayal to his own girlfriend yesterday.

Lysa grabbed her backpack and followed the student body out of the gym. She searched for Petyr, but it was a dense crowd, and he was short.

She just walked to where he had parked the car that morning. He’d saved up all his grocery store cashier paychecks to buy the used Eagle Talon when he turned sixteen. Lysa loved it, even if it would always smell a little like cigarettes from the previous owner no matter how many pine-scented air fresheners she bought.

Finally, Petyr emerged from the crowd, holding up his keys and smirking.

“The apes exhibit was certainly raucous today,” he said, “Baratheon was flinging feces at Targaryen for encroaching on his mate.”

“I thought the same thing!” she said, “Well, not in that clever of terms, but. He completely cut off Principal Merriweather calling his name.”

“Just another ceremony of stupidity. Man throw ball, man hear name, other man cheer. Who needs that?”

“Still it was sort of rude. You only get to go to your senior pep rally once.”

“Only an idiot would actually be sentimental about leaving high school. The only sentiment I’ll feel is pure unadulterated bliss.”

It hurt a little to hear that. She was already dreading her senior year as it meant Petyr would be gone, and she’d be all alone.

“Let’s go,” Petyr said, unlocking the car. Lysa reached for the passenger door handle before she realized she wasn’t wearing her cardigan! She’d left it in her locker before the pep rally. Mom was probably going to be home, and she’d ask about it, and it could be a whole _thing_.

“I just realized I forgot something in my locker,” she said, “I have to go back. Want to come with?”

Petyr huffed in annoyance, “I’ll wait here and listen to my new Weezer type.”

“Okay,” she said, hiding her disappointment. She shouldn’t be disappointed though. It was nice he was waiting for her at all.

She speed-walked through the halls to her locker. Students were still lagging and chatting. She quickly grabbed the cardigan and started hurrying back to the parking lot. She could go through the gym for a shortcut.

The gym was empty and quiet. The only sign that life had been here was the smell of sweat permanently ingrained into the wooden floors.

Lysa thought she was alone until she heard a sound, a snort and a laugh. She turned and through the bleachers, she could see two figures talking to each other. It was Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark!

Lysa ducked behind a cart full of basketballs. What was she doing? She didn’t even know these people! But a secret liaison under the bleachers…It was like something out of a _Sweet Valley High_ book! _Lyanna + Rhaegar = Love_ or _The Prom Dilemma!_ Lysa couldn’t look away. She felt like she had to observe them, like Jane Goodall in the wild.

“I suppose it was not meant to be,” Rhaegar said.

“And so, Backstreet killed the Boss,” Lyanna said. She was speaking a little louder, as if daring someone to listen.

Rhaegar laughed. Like, he actually laughed. It was weird to see on the perpetually brooding face.

“I feel a bit rejected,” he said, “Even if we were going as friends.”

“I’d rather go with you,” Lyanna said, “My dad is just…”

“I get it,” he said.

“I’ll still be there,” she said, “We could dance.”

“I’d rather not get a black eye on my prom night,” he said.

“I’d give Robby one right back,” she said. Then she added something too quiet for Lysa to hear. He said something back. Then Lyanna put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. It was so romantic. They were forbidden lovers, the quarterback and the weird girl. Like in _The Breakfast Club!_ Except Rhaegar was even hotter than Emilio Estevez.

They broke away. Rhaegar mumbled something and walked away from her. The exit door slammed. Lyanna stared after him and then walked off in the opposite direction, wiping her face.

For a moment, Lysa thought she should go to her. She could go to her and tell her not to give up on love. She could tell her about Lysa’s own star-crossed situation with Petyr and Lyanna would nod empathetically and tell her it would all work out too. They’d be bonded then, forged in their mutual heartbreak and hope. Their social strata wouldn’t matter at all. The archetypes would fall away. They’d just be two girls in love, trying to be loved back, understanding each other’s pain.

They’d be like sisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/685zPfQxxr4Yyk9Lxf6A9p?si=fxG9N8kGTVWcmYZbMqMbEA


	7. track 7: teenage kicks by the undertones

The event: West High Prom.

The venue: Harrenhal Country Club’s main ballroom, with music supplied by DJ T7, on his night off from the grocery store.

The question: who will be the Class of ‘97 prom king and queen?

What’s at stake: Two plastic crowns, a gift card to the local barbeque restaurant, and everlasting popularity. 

Let’s meet our contenders.

Brandon Stark arrives early at the behest of his perennially punctual date, Catelyn Tully. Catelyn looks radiant in her cerulean gown and mother’s pearls. She smiled for all of Mrs. Stark’s photos but is truthfully a little peeved. Brandon just told her he will be attending the after-prom beach weekend with most of the senior class. She assumed he would not go as a show of solidarity with her, as Hoster Tully forbade Catelyn’s virtue from coming within twenty miles of the seedy shore town. Catelyn is hoping she can convince him not to go by the end of the night and is thinking a win might fix things. A tender conversation during a post-crowning dance would really come in clutch for her.

Ned Stark cannot believe he has Ashara Dayne on his arm. He has thanked Brandon profusely for scoring him this date. He knows a junior will never win king, but Ashara is up for queen and it would be pretty sweet for her to win. For the rest of her life, she would talk about the night she won Prom Queen and her date would always be a necessary detail. Never mind that Ashara has spent more time laughing at Brandon’s jokes and sending murderous glares to Lyanna. She was here with Ned, and anything could happen tonight. 

Ashara is realizing that a diabolical plan can be effective without being fun. Ned Stark is glommed to her side and filled with earnest affection she had no stomach for. He didn’t even seem to know about her dick rumor. Lyanna was acting openly hostile to Ashara, her date, and her own mother. Brandon was the only fun one, but his ginger girlfriend was keeping him occupied with the ten-thousand photos she wanted for posterity. Ashara’s mission was to keep Lyanna away from Rhaegar, but she was starting to think the two deserved each other. Their neurotic families and woe-is-me angst seemed to be a matching set. At least this bummer of a night would be a funny story for Elia later. Winning prom queen would mean nothing more than a solid punchline.

Lyanna Stark needs this to end. She’s wearing a silver gown her mother bought without even consulting her (not that Lyanna wanted to go dress-shopping). It actually looked great, which was really annoying. She protested its beauty by turning down Catelyn’s offer to loan some jewelry, refusing to make her hair look nice, and wearing combat boots instead of the silver strappy sandals her mom bought.

Robby on the other hand got his hair done (gelled frosted tips in his jet-black hair) and put on jewelry (a pukka shell necklace). The only thing making Lyanna’s gropey, irritating date bearable is the fact he also accessorized by adding a flask to the inside of his jacket. She thinks this is the perfect night to get properly drunk for the first time. Robby is happy to oblige her repeated requests for sips as he goes on and on about how they’re definitely going to win prom king and queen. Lyanna thinks Robby has a shot but isn’t sure why anyone would vote for her since besides the fact that she’s a sophomore, she went straight from unknown entity to school slut. Ashara laughs at the idea the first time Robby brings it up, and Lyanna assumes her misery will all be transmitted to the entire cheerleading squad, if not the whole school. She’s only relieved that her father forbade her from going to After-Prom. Robby keeps telling her to sneak out and come with him anyway, and it’s the one time she’s happy to play the dutiful daughter.

Arriving from the Lannister pre-prom, we have Rhaegar Targaryen who somehow ended up going with Cersei Lannister even though he swore up and down not to. Perhaps this is a fitting punishment and at least should be comforting to Elia as she knows he will have no interest in this date. He didn’t speak to her before she left for the wedding and has no idea if they’re even still dating. If he can get through this night without a jealous rage from Robby Baratheon (or Jaime Lannister), it will be a miracle.

Arthur is happily stag. He offered to take Ashara, but she said going with the nerdy Stark is still a step-up from going with her brother. He looks at Jon Connington, another stag, and thinks about the fake ID in his pocket and their plans tonight at the gay bar in the next town over. It wouldn’t be the John Hughes night their peers would have, but he could think of nothing else.

In Petyr’s basement across town, Lysa Tully arrives with three rented movies- two horror flicks for Petyr and _The Princess Bride_ for her, if she can convince him. He’s moping and miserable and wants to go crash prom and burn it down. Lysa wants to hook up during the movie and actually feel like she’s his first choice tonight.

Howl Reed and Barbrey Ryswell go to Dairy Queen before prom. They’re wearing all black, as the student volunteers were told to. It was sort of stupid they were still going through with volunteering, given they had only signed up to support Lyanna. Barb had completely forgotten until they got called down to get their assignments on Thursday, and being sort of a nerd, Barb didn’t want to tell Mrs. Byrch she couldn’t do it anymore. Barb wasn’t even that mad at Lyanna anymore, but both were too stubborn to make the first move towards reconciliation. Howl and Ben were getting pretty sick of the split custody and wanted them to all just be friends again.

Finally, on a beautiful outdoor terrace in San Juan, Elia Martell is raising a glass to her brother and his bride-to-be at their rehearsal dinner. Elia always loved coming back to Puerto Rico in the summer. The past few days had been wonderful as Elia got to cook with her aunts and swim in the ocean with Oberyn. This week, everyone was worrying over Doran marrying this girl none of them knew after only a few months of dating. Mama had glared murderously at Tío after a joke about shotgun weddings. But Mellario seemed to make Elia’s serious big brother smile, and wasn’t that the most important thing? Sitting at the table with her abuela’s hand over hers, getting to be with the people she loved most, Elia wasn’t even thinking about the crown she might have claimed or the broody quarterback who’d given her so much grief.

That quarterback had resolved not to go near the dance floor all night. Cersei was staring at the linoleum longingly, and he felt a little guilty about that. But there was nothing left in him to give to anyone- not Cersei, not Elia, not even his own mother. Rhaegar grabbed Arthur and Jon and led them to the golf cart garage to smoke with the cater waiters. When he was just focusing on the inhale exhale of the cigarette, he could cut off all feelings. His rage, his shame, his hurt could all be numbed if he just kept standing in place.

He’d never asked to be a golden boy. All he ever wanted was a quiet room with a door that locks and a shelf full of books. His work on the field, in the classroom, his music and his friends, it all added up to one scared child desperately seeking new places to hide from the same monsters.

The kitschy sentimentality of this whole night felt so wrong. The upbeat music and shiny silver garlands were so disparate from his father’s house. The screams of excited classmates reminded him a little too much of the yelling that followed him out the door this afternoon. How had he ended up here in this rented suit, at a celebration for a future he didn’t have?

Rhaegar was running out of places to escape to. His old friends were seeing through the act. He was about to lose school, the refuge of the past twelve years. He barely had enough cash to fill up his gas tank.

His fingers played with his lighter’s flame, and he wished it didn’t remind him of his father. He wished his mother would answer his calls. He wished he could be finally and truly lost.

Inside the ballroom, Lyanna was wishing to get lost too. The assigned seating made it difficult though. She hadn’t even been here an hour, and she was already done. She refused to dance or follow Robby as he talked to his bros. Lyanna just wanted to eat the shitty chicken dinner and get out of here the moment dessert was served. The limo service would be taking her, Ned, and Catelyn home while everyone else headed to the beach.

Robby sat down next to her, eyes a little red-rimmed. His trip to the boys’ room clearly had included a smoke session.

“Lya, you should come to After-Prom with me,” Robby said for the hundredth time that night.

“I told you, my dad said no,” she said, but it came out sort of slurred. 

“Have you ever even been drunk?” Robby said, laughing.

“I think I might be now,” she said.

“It’s fun, right? We could spend the whole weekend together, partying and going to the beach. I bet you’ve never played beer pong before. We could be partners.”

He smiled at her, and she smiled back, reflexively. The thing is Robby could be sort of charming. He had that guileless confidence and a good-looking face. Probably a lot of girls would have been happy to be on the lug’s arm tonight.

“Are you a virgin, Lya?”

Then he said shit like that and ruined it.

“I’d rather die a virgin than have sex with you,” she spit.

“Woah, I thought we were having fun. Why are you being such a bitch?”

“I’m not a bitch!” A few people from the neighboring table looked at her.

“I’m taking a lap,” she said, getting up. She walked through the tables, avoiding coming too close to any clusters of people. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. They were seniors enjoying one last hurrah with friends. Lyanna didn’t belong here.

She headed towards the doors of the ballroom. She could kill some time wandering around the club.

Her mom basically lived here, but Lyanna only came now if forced. She and her siblings had been dropped off for camp every summer until after sixth grade when Lyanna refused because the other girls _hated_ her because she could never sit still and kept having pool time taken away by those uptight counselors. In the years since, even on the hottest summer days, Lyanna never came here to swim. Every time her mom suggested it, Lyanna would remember how Melara Hetherspoon said she looked like a manatee in her bathing suit and chose to stay home with the sprinkler.

Melara had gone to private high school. She wasn’t here tonight. Lyanna walked down the hall and remembered the way to the balcony that overlooked the golf course. It was chilly for May, but Lyanna would rather hang out there and be cold then go anywhere where she might have to talk to Robby. She made her way there and found the balcony was empty except for two people.

Barb was filming Howl do tricks on his skateboard over the marble benches. With the lights and the dusk sky, the shots must look really cool.

“Hey,” Lyanna said. They both turned around.

“Hey, Stark,” Howl said, “Fancy dress.”

“Thanks. Hi, Barb.”

“You going out for prom queen?” Barb said. Lyanna knew all of Barb’s levels of sarcasm, and this was a pretty friendly one.

“You think I got a shot?” Lyanna said.

“Maybe, but I’d check for buckets of pig blood before you get up there,” Barb said. They both laughed.

“Barb- “

“Ly- “

“You first,” Lyanna said.

“I don’t like how things went down,” Barb said, “I don’t like keeping secrets.”

“Me neither,” Lyanna said, “I’ve missed you guys. But…he’s my _brother_ , Barb. It’s weird for me.”

“I know. It just…happened. I didn’t know how you’d react. I got scared.”

“It’s a long time to keep a secret.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just special what we have. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Lyanna’s stomach flipped. Barb still believed what she and Brandon had was real. She didn’t know about the cheerleader Lyanna found in his bedroom or the dismissive way Brandon wrote off Barb’s feelings. Brandon must not have felt any pressure to come clean to Barb about Ashara, even though he knew Lyanna knew. He probably didn’t even care.

Lyanna _really_ didn’t want to fight again tonight. She’d felt so alone these past few weeks. She’d felt alone tonight in the crowded ballroom. When Rhaegar rejected her kiss, she’d wondered if anyone would ever really want her around, or if she’d drive every good person out of her life, quicker than they came into it.

_Barb will be upset no matter when she finds out. Put it off tonight and tell Brandon he needs to confess to Barb_ and _Cat when he gets back._

“I understand,” Lyanna said, “Can we just not talk about it and be friends again?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Barb said, “So…how’s your big night with Robby going?”

“Well, he just asked me if I’m a virgin so that was fun.”

“No! What an asshole,” Barb said.

“He’s trying to get me to go to After-Prom with him,” Lyanna said.

“Wow, I wonder why a guy would ask a girl if she’s a virgin and then ask to hang out with him on prom night. Robby’s a real man of mystery,” Barb said.

Once Lyanna could laugh about it, most of her anger went away. One good thing about going to prom with Robby was now the night she’d been dreading was almost over. She never had to see him again. He would graduate and just be a gross memory.

They let the night go by, smoking weed that Howl brought, and wandering around the country club. When they saw caterers pushing dessert carts, Barb suggested they all go back in and swipe some brownies. Dessert meant the night was winding down. Howl had already said he’d drive them to the diner. They snuck back into the ballroom, making a beeline for the dessert table.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the time of night where we announce our Prom King and Queen, as voted on by the senior class!” Mrs. Byrch said. She was holding a sealed envelope in her hand. A student followed behind, carrying the plastic crowns. The room quieted down to listen.

“Oh, we gotta see this,” Barb said, her camera out and rolling.

“First off, our Class of ’97 Prom King is…Brandon Stark!” the room whooped and hollered. Lyanna rolled her eyes. Typical.

People looked around, but Brandon was nowhere in sight. The room got quiet as they waited for him to reveal himself, but he didn’t.

“Brandon?” Mrs. Byrch said, “Could any gents see if Brandon is in the bathroom?”

Lyanna covered her mouth with her hand and laughed.

“Classic,” Barb mouthed.

“While Brandon is making his way to the stage, let’s announce our Prom Queen,” Mrs. Byrch said, “Everyone give a big West High round of applause to Catelyn Tully!”

Catelyn did make her way to the stage, smiling graciously if a little confused. She clearly hadn’t seen Brandon either. She accepted the plastic tiara and put it on her head. The DJ started to play “Always Be My Baby”, but Catelyn stood in place, waiting for her king.

“This is hilarious,” Howl said, “Perfectly chaotic.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here before I have to kiss my date good night,” Lyanna said, “I just gotta tell Ned and get my jacket. Meet you guys at the front?”

“It’s a plan, Stan,” Barb said. Howl and Barb headed out of the ballroom.

Lyanna spotted Ned sitting alone at his table, looking a little forlorn. She walked over.

“Hey,” he said, “Where’s Robby?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” she said, “Where’s Ashara?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “This is pretty embarrassing for Brandon. And Cat.”

“It’s kind of funny,” she said. Couples had taken to the floor, but Catelyn was still standing next to the DJ booth, looking around for Brandon.

“Hey, uh, thanks for, I don’t know, being a good sport and going tonight. I’m sorry how everything went down. Getting Mom and Dad involved wasn’t cool,” Ned said.

“Yeah, it was pretty narc-y,” she said, prickling. She was still embarrassed about how much she screamed and cried that night. She hadn’t even spoken to Ned since then.

“I know,” he said, “I just…when you weren’t home, I panicked. I was trying to look out for you.”

“I don’t need anyone to look out for me,” she said, “I just came over to tell you I’m getting a ride home with Howl and Barb. We’re going to get food.”

“You guys are cool again?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Was Robby…really bad tonight?”

Lyanna sighed. Earlier, she had resolved not to fight. She wasn’t up for it anyway.

“No, he was fine,” she said, “I gotta go. They’re waiting for me.”

“Okay,” Ned said, looking relieved, “Have fun.”

She walked away to the little room right off the ballroom where she had checked her leather jacket at the beginning of the night. No one else was heading there yet, as most of the seniors were still on the dancefloor, soaking up the last of the night.

Lyanna opened the door and made a sound of surprise. Among the senior class’ coats and clutches, Ashara Dayne was making out with the Stark who was not her date, Mr. Prom King himself.

Brandon noticed her first. He made the same face he had in his bedroom a few weeks ago. A little boy’s “oh no, you caught me peeking at my birthday presents” face. Lyanna did not feel like dealing with her brother’s nonsense again tonight.

“Whoops,” Ashara said, smiling as she straightened her dress, “Hey, Lyanna. We gotta stop meeting like this.”

“You’re such an asshole, Brandon,” Lyanna said, “Really? Tonight? Here?”

“What are you doing here?” he said.

“Getting my coat, idiot,” she said. Lyanna went to a nearby rack and started looking for her jacket. She snatched it off the hangar and headed to the door but turned to get her one last word in. Yelling at Brandon was now a sport for her.

“It’s impressive how you’re always finding new ways to be a dickhead, Brandon,” Lyanna said, “I mean, cheating on your girlfriend at prom? That’s creative.”

“What?”

Lyanna turned to see Catelyn and her friends standing in the doorway. Cat was wearing her crown and holding Brandon’s. There was no way she hadn’t heard Lyanna.

“I was looking for you. We won,” Cat said weakly.

“Shit,” Ashara said. She actually did look a little guilty now. Lyanna felt terrible. Cat looked like she was about to cry.

“Cat,” Brandon said, “I fucked up. I’m so sorry.”

Cat turned and ran, pushing her way through the small crowd of students that had followed the drama. A bunch of football bros realized what happened and started whooping at Brandon, as he followed Cat. People were laughing. The West High rumor mill already had its gears greased and turning.

Oh, shit. _Barb._

She would be waiting just around the corner by the front doors, where Brandon, Cat, and most of the seniors were headed. Lyanna couldn’t let her find out from some random gossip. She would be devastated enough.

As Lyanna pushed through the seniors, she could literally hear the story spreading through the crowd.

“Barb!” Lyanna said, spotting Barb and Howl at the front, talking to Martyn Cassel of all people.

Barb turned to her. The anger and hurt was written all over her face, as much as she was trying to hide it.

“Here to say I told you so?” Barb said, her voice breaking a little on the last word.

“Barb, I’m sorry,” Lyanna said, “Really, I am.”

“Has he been seeing her too?” Barb said, her eyes wet, “How long? Did you know?”

“I…sort of. She was at my house once. He didn’t deny it.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Let’s not do this here,” she said. They were surrounded by students. Elbert had backed away, but more observers were quickly replacing him.

“You acted so sanctimonious about keeping secrets,” Barb said, laughing.

“We weren’t speaking when I found out! Would it even matter if I told you?” Lyanna said, “You knew he had Catelyn, and you kept seeing him. It’s always been so hard to get through to you about him.”

“Cat’s entirely different.”

“How?”

“I knew about Cat. I knew-,” Barb said, “I thought if I knew he was kind of a jerk, I wasn’t being fooled. I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Lyanna said, “I’m sorry, I should have told you. I didn’t mean for this to all happen. Come on. Let’s go get waffles and forget about him. Let’s go back to normal before any of this happened.”

Barb breathed out, shaky. She wiped her first tears, her eyeliner smudging.

“I know it’s not really your fault, but I don’t want to see you right now,” Barb said, “Howl, will you drive me home?”

“Yeah,” Howl said.

“Barb, this is stupid. We’re best friends,” Lyanna said.

“I think we should just take a break from that,” Barb said, “For a little while. Howl, let’s go.”

Barb turned and walked towards the front doors. She stopped in the doorway, waiting for Howl, ignoring anyone who looked at her.

“We’ll see you around, Ly,” Howl said. It didn’t sound like a promise he knew he could keep. He followed Barb. 

Lyanna now felt the prying eyes on her. She turned back and walked down an empty hall, towards the balcony, away from the crowds. When she got there, she plopped down on one of the benches and let herself cry.

Lyanna couldn’t help but feel like the earth had shifted in the last few minutes. But, no, things had been changing for a long time. Ever since she decided to rock the boat and try out for football. Once immutable principles like knowing everything about her best friend and QB1 being too cool to talk to her were gone. Would she, Barb, Howl, and Benjen ever go back to that cafeteria table as the best of friends?

There wasn’t a person in her life left who wasn’t mad at her. Even her house held more enemies than allies. Lyanna had never felt so alone.

Time to throw in the towel. The prom was over. The limo had probably left by now. She would have to call her mom and ask her to pick her up, like she once did when she was scared at sleepovers. Then she would spend the whole weekend locked in her room. Actually, the whole rest of the school year. Maybe by September, everything could go back to normal. Heck, maybe she could transfer and find a whole new school to turn against her.

“And I thought we would be the most dramatic event of prom season.”

Lyanna looked up at the friendly voice, “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

“I know,” Rhaegar said, “You care so much about other people. Your parents, your brothers, your friends. Even me, I think, not that I deserve it.”

“Of course, you deserve it,” Lyanna said, “I thought you were still mad at me. After…”

“I was never mad. Just confused,” Rhaegar said, “I shouldn’t have run off like that. I should have tried to talk to you.”

“I’ve been avoiding you too,” Lyanna said, “I was really embarrassed.”

“I’m sorry, anyway,” he said, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere.”

It was a bucket of water in this inferno of shit, the only safe place left to turn.

She didn’t know who it would hurt or how much would change. She didn’t believe any more hurt could be done. They would ask “why” and “how” and what the hell she was thinking.

The truth is she wasn’t thinking a damn thing. All Lyanna did was latch on to Rhaegar’s smile and follow it out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/685zPfQxxr4Yyk9Lxf6A9p?si=fxG9N8kGTVWcmYZbMqMbEA


	8. track 8: the child is gone by fiona apple

Lyanna had a feeling where this was going the moment she got into the car and Rhaegar kissed her. She was certain of it when he told her they were going to his family’s secluded lake house.

The drive down there took almost three hours, but it passed quickly enough. Conversation was easy, like nothing had happened since the last time they were in this car, ditching class. Rhaegar put on one of his mix tapes and rolled down the windows. The cool night wind dried the tears from her cheeks.

After they got off the highway, they drove through the woods, on a barely there, dirt road. The ominous surroundings didn’t give Rhaegar any pause though, only a few passing deer.

The lake house was humbler than Lyanna expected from a Targaryen property. It did not have the splendor of the family home they had played in, although it did look abandoned from the outside. The paint was peeling, and the porch railing was broken in spots.

The inside had signs of life. The front door opened up to a small kitchen and living room. Rhaegar led her straight back to a messy bedroom, with a queen-sized bed covered in tangled, flannel sheets. Stuff was scattered across the floor and shirts were sticking out of half-open drawers.

“I’ve been staying here sometimes,” he said, picking up the clothes left on the floor, “Working on my music.”

“Cool,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. But she, Lyanna Stark, loser sophomore, was in a bedroom on prom night with the most popular guy in school, with all signs pointing to her imminent deflowering. Her mind was more than a little boggled at this turn of events.

They had made out in his car in the country club parking lot before hitting the road. She’d been so caught up in the moment, she hadn’t even had to think about what her hands and mouth were doing. Lyanna might have gone all the way in his backseat right then if he’d asked and if teachers weren’t still moseying to their cars.

Now, she’d had three hours of driving and over-thinking to freak out over this. She wouldn’t know what she was doing. What if she was bad at it? If she was still talking to Barb and this was happening with any forewarning, she would have called a meeting to gather research and study R-rated movies.

Lyanna wanted to do this. She knew Rhaegar wouldn’t pressure her if she didn’t. You only got one first time, and she wanted it to be with a guy like him, who really knew her and cared about her. Obviously, he was hot. The only problem was she didn’t know how to key these thoughts into action. 

Rhaegar took a step toward her, hesitantly smiling.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she blurted, “I mean, um, I should freshen up.”

“Right through there,” he said.

Lyanna took stock in the bathroom mirror. One upside of never wearing make-up is her earlier tears hadn’t resulted in any raccoon resemblance. She splashed water on her face. She opened up the medicine cabinet and found some deodorant that she applied. A drawer also held a brush which got her hair under control. She then tousled it a little, attempting to look sexy.

Finally, she took off her prom dress, balled it up, and left it on the bathroom counter.

Emerging from the bathroom in only her bra and boy shorts was her signal that she was game. She had come this far and was going to go all the way.

Rhaegar had made the bed, lit some candles, and put on a CD. The Cranberries. She smiled at the familiar voice of Dolores O’Riordan. Rhaegar must have remembered how much Lyanna liked them. She remembered that first night at Summerhall, when they’d sang and almost kissed. Her heart got all gooey at the memory.

Rhaegar smiled at her, his hair reflecting the light of the candles. He was wearing his dress pants and an undershirt. He was so beautiful, and all his attention was directed only at her. It made her feel so singular, so good best better than any other girl. That rush of confidence overrode her fear and told her to walk over to the bed and initiate the first, tentative kiss.

From there, Rhaegar led, which was fine. The alcohol and weed still in her system helped her relax and go with the pace he set.

It was a good first time, she decided, afterwards. Rhaegar was gentle and sweet, continuously checking in on how she felt and whether she wanted to keep going. It hadn’t hurt, but she’d been so nervous she hardly felt anything like pleasure. There had been no moaning and gasping like in the movies. Instead, there was laughing as they figured out positions and getting the condom on. Rhaegar seemed to have enjoyed himself. He had finished, and they’d fallen asleep with her head on his chest. Somehow, that felt more intimate than the act itself.

She wasn’t sure if she felt different. If she did, it was less because she had sex itself and more because she had just done so many un-Lyanna things in one night. Hours before, she’d lamented all the changes her life had undergone since football tryouts. Tonight felt like one good thing coming out of all that tumult. 

Lyanna woke up to sunlight pouring in the windows. She could hear birds outside singing. Rhaegar was still asleep. He was drooling a little. Rhaegar Targaryen’s one flaw: he drooled in his sleep.

Lyanna laid her head back against his chest and closed her eyes. She didn’t fall all the way back to sleep, just waited patiently for him to stir.

“Morning,” she said. Her voice sounded hoarse. Her mouth was really dry too.

“Hey,” Rhaegar said with a sleepy smile, “Want to go get breakfast?”

“Breakfast sounds great,” she said.

He lent her a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt from the dresser that smelled like him. It felt good to be back in baggy, comfortable clothes.

They drove into town to a diner where the waitress called Rhaegar by name. He said he’d been coming in since he was an infant. Lyanna pictured all of the Targaryens gathered around the table with their perfect white-blond hair. Mrs. Targaryen would smile at Rhaegar cleverly beating the children’s menu maze and his baby brother making a mess with his food. They would eat pancakes and plan another fun summer day on the lake, the only concern being whether to build sandcastles or rent jet-skis.

After a delicious stack of waffles, Lyanna and Rhaegar walked along the lakeshore. She was so happy they came here, so far away from the beach her brother and Robby were probably passed out on right now. They skipped stones, dipped their feet in the chilly water, and even went out on his family’s old rowboat.

By nightfall, she felt a little bad. Her parents would definitely notice her absence by now. They probably thought she snuck off to the beach with Robby. But maybe they weren’t even mad. They clearly cared more about Robby’s happiness than hers.

Rhaegar made grilled cheeses for dinner, and they had sex again. It was better than the first time. Maybe sex got a little bit better every time you did it. After they finished, she almost wanted to ask for another go, but she was too nervous about how that would come off. Besides, it was just as nice to lie there together, trading stupid jokes. Rhaegar played some of his favorite CDs, and they sang along in cartoon characters’ voices. He did a surprisingly spot-on Scooby-Doo.

Sunday was more of the same, but bittersweet. Tomorrow Lyanna would have to return to school. She’d have to face her parents, her brothers, Barb. She didn’t know what people would say or think. Maybe no one had even realized they left the prom together, like so many times she’d snuck back into the house this year without a peep. Lyanna would sneak back into her life, keeping this perfect weekend in her heart forever.

In the afternoon, they picked up some taquitos and Hostess snacks at a convenience store a few miles away and ate on the rocky share on an old picnic blanket. Lyanna was thinking about when they would have to hit the road and if she would beat Brandon home or not.

“It’s so perfect here,” she said, “Does your family come every summer?”

“No, not for years. Since I was like nine. I just started coming back when I got a car to write music or be alone.”

“Oh,” she said, thinking back to her diner vision, “But you must have loved it here as a kid?”

“Yeah, I did,” he said, “My mom did too. The fresh air was good for her health, and she liked the other families being around. And the fact that my dad rarely ever came with us.”

“Oh,” she said thinking of the way her parents had talked about Rhaegar’s father. Of course, Rhaegar spoke about not getting along a bunch of times, the same way Lyanna talked about fighting with her dad. But even when the Starks were all at each other’s throats, her parents were always a united front. Lyarra would never be happy to leave Rickard behind for a whole summer.

All families are different. In rich ones, especially, husbands and wives could live in different worlds. Maybe they were staying together for the kids or something.

“It’ll all be good here again,” Rhaegar said, taking her hand, “It’s our place now.”

“It is.”

“We can stay here forever.”

“Well, until Monday,” she said chuckling.

His face fell in confusion, “No, Lyanna, I want to stay here. I can’t go back”

“But we have school,” she said, “You graduate in a couple of weeks. My parents don’t even know I’m here.”

“Neither do mine,” he said, “Who cares? They never understood us anyway.”

“Yeah, but- “

“We could be happy here. Don’t you know how rare that is?”

“What about Julliard?”

“I didn’t get in,” he said flippantly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. When did that happen?”

“It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t go anyway. My mom’s gone, and there’s no money.”

“Wait, what?” she said.

“She left with my brother. She couldn’t take me with her. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about my family. I care about you. You see me, Lyanna, like no one ever has. I don’t have to pretend or hide. My whole life I have waited for that. I love you.”

No one had ever told Lyanna they loved her. Not like that. She searched his eyes, so earnest and pleading.

“I still don’t know,” she said, “I could get in really big trouble.”

“School’s almost over anyway. Let’s start our summer now. Do you really want to be stared at and whispered about for the next two weeks?”

The gossip didn’t bother her so much, but her father’s anger did. The longer she was away, the worse it would be to come home, but then again…perhaps it would do her parents good to finally worry about Lyanna. They would realize how much they took her for granted.

Rhaegar smiled at her and all she wanted to do was keep him smiling, to keep away the bad things that unfairly maligned this sweet soul. He clearly needed someone to be there for him right now. When you loved someone, you made sacrifices.

“Okay,” she said, “A few more days.”

“Yes!” he said, and when he kissed her, they tumbled into the dirt, laughing.

***

It had been all and all a stellar prom night for Brandon Stark.

Well, except for Cat walking in on him, but Brandon was honestly sort of relieved about that. Now it was all out in the open. Sure, he wished things ended better, but he was glad they ended all the same. She had been a lie he kept up to preserve the last shred of some stupid honorable son routine. That just wasn’t him. Cat was better off. They would have broken up the first week of college anyway.

The shore house was insane. Brandon won not one, not two, but three rounds of beer pong. Robby Baratheon was about to punch a hole in the wall. The boy just had no aim. Brandon was just about to go for round four, but he was pulled away by the best possible distraction. Ashara came over to ask for their own round two.

(Ashara had no one to talk to with Arthur cruising, Elia gone, and every girl mad at her on behalf of Catelyn Tully. Her exact words to Brandon were “I’m bored.”)

Brandon took her to an open room, and they stayed there until morning as the party raged on. It wasn’t until he was drifting off to sleep that Brandon realized he forgot to check with Robby that Lya got home okay.

The weekend passed by in a daze of day-drinking on the beach, playing chicken in the ocean, and winning more beer pong. Brandon also lasted the longest in their keg stand contest, and when he asked Ashara for a congratulatory kiss, she assented with a roll of her eyes. God, he loved when she rolled those violet eyes. He wished Prom Weekend never had to end.

“Wake up, Stark.”

Brandon opened his eyes. He was on the floor of the living room. It smelled like beer. It made him want to hurl. The sun was streaming through the windows, agitating his hangover headache. Ashara was standing over him, dressed for the day, with wet hair in braided pigtails.

“Ashara? What?” he groaned. He didn’t remember passing out, but it must be Sunday morning. He felt like he’d barely slept.

“Someone’s on the phone for you,” she said, “It’s your dad. He called like five times before I answered. It’s in the kitchen.”

(Ashara wondered to herself if Brandon was too dumb to give his parents a fake number or if lies of omission were the only type allowed in his strange honor code.)

Brandon groaned but got up and walked through the messy house. This could not be good. He’d definitely told his parents he wouldn’t be back until Sunday, right?

He picked up the phone.

“Dad?” Brandon said, “What’s going on? It’s really early.”

“Brandon Stark, is your sister there with you?” his father said.

“What? No,” Brandon said, the question so strange he didn’t think twice before answering. Really, Brandon didn’t remember most of the people he’d seen this weekend, and there had been a couple other groups of West High people down the shore staying elsewhere. If Lyanna had snuck down here, she easily could have escaped his notice.

“Brandon, if you’re covering for her…” Dad began to threaten.

“I’m not!” Brandon said, “I haven’t seen her at all. Didn’t she go home in the limo?”

“No. Ned said she told him she was riding home with her friend Barbrey. We called the Ryswell’s to ask when she was coming home last night, they said she never stayed there.”

Brandon didn’t even know Barb and Lyanna had started speaking again. He’d noticed them sitting apart in the cafeteria, feeling a little guilty every time he did, but knowing if he interfered, all his lies would come out. Had Lyanna been lying to Ned or had there been a last-minute change?

“Is Robert there?” Dad said.

“Yeah, he’s been here all weekend,” Brandon said, “But if Lyanna came down, she wouldn’t have come with him.”

“Does he know what happened to her? A gentleman is supposed to make sure his date is seen home safely.”

Dad sounded extra pissed at the eldest Baratheon. Apparently, the only thing Lyanna could do to make Rickard turn on Robby was actually going on a date with Robby. 

“I’ll ask him. He should be here,” Brandon said, leaving the phone on the counter. He looked to Ashara who was rifling through a bag of bagels nearby.

“Ashara, have you seen my sister this weekend?” Brandon asked.

“Well, there was this big dance on Friday- “

“No, no, no. I mean after,” Brandon said, “At the end of prom. Or even here. She never came home.”

“I didn’t see her, but I honestly wasn’t paying much attention,” Ashara said. She sounded apathetic, but Ashara always knew more than she let on.

“Do you know where Robby slept last night?” he asked.

“He passed out on the basement pull-out couch,” she answered quickly. Ashara was always taking notes.

Brandon went downstairs and shook him awake. The big lug’s face was covered in drool, and he awoke slowly.

“Go away,” Robby said, about to roll over, but Brandon got in his face.

“Robby, what happened to Lyanna after prom?” Brandon said.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Robby said, “She took the limo back with Ned and Cat?”

“No, she didn’t. Think. When was the last time you saw her?”

“I don’t know! She ditched me to go hang out with Howl Reed and that girl Barbara. I didn’t even see her before we left.”

“It’s Barbrey,” Brandon said, “Lya never made it home. You weren’t supposed to drive her home or anything?”

“No, I never was. I was too drunk,” Robby said as if that left him innocent.

“You’re useless, Robby,” Brandon said. He returned to the phone.

“Robby said she was with Howl and Barbrey. Have you called the Reed house? She might be hiding out there with Howl.”

“A boy?” his dad said, starting to get pissed off.

“Relax, Dad, they’re just friends.”

“Weren’t you looking out for her at all?” he said, “She’s your little sister.”

Brandon felt a pit in his stomach. He was probably one of the last people to see Lyanna. She’d walked in on him at the very end of the night. She’d been grabbing her jacket to leave. Then she yelled at him, and Cat was there, and he’d gone after Cat, but she’d disappeared into one of the many limousines lined up outside.

Lyanna had been so mad at him for weeks, slamming her door in his face when he tried to talk to her. She’d probably had a terrible night. She’d been drinking from Robby’s flask. Maybe she’d wanted to rebel and found some seniors to party with. She could have ended up anywhere, gotten hurt, been taken advantage of.

And it could be all Brandon’s fault.

“She’s probably just pissed off and avoiding us,” Brandon said, wanting so badly to be right, “She’s probably at Howl’s. I’ll ask around the other houses, okay? We’ll find her.”

“I am so sick of these little stunts,” Rickard muttered, “If she’s not back by tonight- “

The line went dead.

***

On Sunday evening, the Stark house was tense. They were all waiting for the moment Lyanna walked back through the door. She had needed to blow off some steam, but it’s not like she was going to skip school or anything.

Benjen was nervous with anticipation. Lyanna and Dad would immediately start a screaming match, and the rest of them would have to watch the whole horrible mess. He would hear her crying into her pillow through the wall. It would be another unhappy night at the Stark’s.

Benjen understood Lyanna was mad at their parents for a lot of reasons, but sometimes he wished she was a little better at bottling things up. He could give her some tips.

Friday night, Mom and Dad had accepted Ned’s story of Lyanna being with Barb without question. Ben had been happily surprised to hear they’d made up at the prom. He was kind of waiting for Lyanna to call the house and tell him to come over or that they were all doing something, but he figured they probably wanted some girl time or whatever. They had a lot to catch up on.

Mom and Dad had a busy Saturday at a social. Ned was gone too for most of the afternoon. He’d brought flowers over to Catelyn’s house, to see how she was doing after the whole Brandon fiasco at prom. After Ned filled Benjen in on that hot gossip, Ben was chomping at the bit to dissect the whole thing with Lya.

It wasn’t until dusk that Mom asked Benjen if he’d heard from Lyanna. He said no, Mom called the Ryswell’s, and then, they started to worry. Ben called Barb’s line, and she told him she and Lyanna were supposed to leave together, but they’d fought and Howl only drove Barb home. It was all pretty dramatic, and she didn’t know what Lyanna did after that.

First thing Sunday morning, they called Brandon, called the Ryswell’s again, then the Reeds, and finally the Baratheon’s. Dad even called the Tully’s, and then Mr. Tully screamed at him over how Brandon broke Cat’s heart in front of the entire school.

Yeah, if Brandon wasn’t already going to get shit at for losing Lyanna, he was for that. It actually might be the first time Brandon’s ever gotten yelled at by their parents for anything. Another first was that Brandon looked genuinely worried. He’d asked around at all the other West High rented houses, and no one had seen Lyanna since the prom.

Now Benjen’s head was full of kidnappers and highway murderers. Maybe she’d realized she didn’t have any ride back to town and tried to walk home or something. Brandon and Ned took the car and drove around for a bit, aimlessly.

By midnight, Mom and Dad’s anger was replaced by fear. They probably wouldn’t even be mad when she came home at this point, as long as she was safe. Mom told him to go to bed, so he did. He thinks they stayed up all night.

On Monday morning, all the Starks were on strict orders to phone home if Lyanna turned up at school. If not, Sheriff Mormont would be getting a call.

Benjen waited at their usual table and filled in Howl and Barb on the lack of news. They felt really guilty they had left her without a ride. Ben saw Ned a few tables away trying to get information out of a still-hungover Robby. All of the senior class looked worse for wear this Monday morning.

Brandon was looking around the cafeteria with more focus than usual. He was sitting with some football bro’s, not Catelyn or Ashara. Catelyn was with her friends, and Ashara was back with Elia and Arthur at the football/cheerleader table. But someone was missing.

“Oh my God,” Benjen said. He got up and was walking right towards them before he remembered he was a freshman, and they were seniors. He went to Brandon instead.

“Brandon,” Ben said.

“Is she here?” Brandon said, “I knew she wouldn’t skip.”

“No, Brandon, look who else isn’t here,” he said, and he pointed to Ashara’s table.

Brandon put the pieces together quickly. Ned had noticed them talking, and he came over too, Robby following for some reason.

“Is she here?” Ned said.

“I am going to murder him,” Brandon said. No levity, no hyperbole.

“What, who?” Ned said.

Brandon got up and stormed over to that table. Ben became aware of everyone in the cafeteria watching as they followed him.

“Dayne, where’s your boy?” Brandon said loudly. Heads turned.

“What are you talking about, Stark?” Arthur said, smiling a little, confused by the lack of levity on Brandon’s face.

“Where is Targaryen? Do any of you know?” he asked. He turned on Elia who looked so uncomfortable Benjen thought she might sink into the floor.

“I have nothing to do with him anymore,” she said, the “him” clearly a sore subject.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said, “He ditched prom weekend.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ashara said, “Is she still missing?”

Brandon nodded and announced to the football players, the cheerleaders, and the whole school, “Rhaegar Targaryen stole my sister.” 

Things only got more batshit from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/685zPfQxxr4Yyk9Lxf6A9p?si=1zKblETQTsuTq1EXnuGdTw


	9. track 9: volcano girls by veruca salt

Benjen wasn’t so sure if “taken” was the right word.

The whole school shared his skepticism, if not his reserve in expressing it. Everyone had seen the serenade and already thought something was going on between the Stark sister and QB1. The curiosity that had fizzled out a few weeks ago had now returned as the obsession of the masses.

Mom and Dad were still making them go to school, keeping up appearances and all that, so Ben heard firsthand how every day Lya and Rhaegar were again marked absent, the gossip grew wilder. The general student body wasn’t very concerned, per se. People laughed about the two who just couldn’t let prom weekend end. A popular yarn said Lyanna was pregnant and ran off to elope. In Civics, a cheerleader declared confidently they were shacked up in the honeymoon suite at the Crossroads Motel off of Route 77. 

Meanwhile, those closest to Lya were coming to terms with the fact that they knew nothing about her. Even rational theories were hesitantly spoke aloud. Every different possibility possessed a unique capacity to devastate.

Benjen had been able to tell something was up for months now. He noticed when Rhaegar came to collect Lya for a hallway stroll during Bio. He saw the phone line being hogged more and more. Lya once told Mom and Dad that she was seeing a late movie with Barb, and Benjen hadn’t said a word although he knew she wasn’t.

Benjen kept it quiet. He didn’t bring it up to Lya. He didn’t even try to add up the clues in his own mind. He thought there was something noble about guarding Lyanna’s secrets, more so if she didn’t know he’d taken up the post.

Ben loved his sister more than anyone in the world. He saw how it smothered her to live in a town where all grass got sheared right as it grew long enough to bend. Sometimes he wished she had just a touch of his aversion to conflict, but if she was the type to wait quietly for better things, she wouldn’t be his Lya.

A little brother gets used to being forgotten. Teachers called him Brandon and Ned. His mom did too. He was always the tagalong, but Lyanna never made him feel unwanted. When Brandon and Ned kicked them out of their childhood games, Lyanna and Ben had enough fun on their own playing Batman and Robin. He’d show her a CD he found at the music store, and she’d declare he was the coolest person in the world. When Lyanna said stuff like that, you forgot you were a scrawny nerd who still hadn’t grown facial hair. On his first day of high school in September, Ben hadn’t even looked for new friends to sit with at lunch. He knew Lyanna had saved him a seat, and there was no other he’d prefer. 

But now she’d ridden off somewhere without hitching his sidecar. He’d knew it would happen one day. He assumed it would be in a few years when Lya went to college or moved to some big city and got famous or something.

Ben thought Lyanna would come home when she was ready. He would knock quietly on her bedroom door and she’d invite him to sit on her beanbag chair and listen to her secrets. 

***

Brandon always thought his little sister was a much better person than him. Now he’s worried they’re exactly alike.

Running away with the exact person you’re not supposed to be with? Doing what you wanted without a thought for anyone else? Saying “fuck you” to all consequences? Lyanna was definitely stealing from the Brandon Stark playbook.

Was all the crap his mother said about his little siblings looking up to him actually true? Brandon thought there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he was the Stark family fuck-up, and Ned, Lya, and Ben were all better than him. The last few weeks especially Brandon had been a perfect model in how to disappoint your loved ones. He didn’t realize Lya was taking notes!

Lyanna was still smarter than him though. Unlike Brandon, she probably knows exactly what dumb decision she’s making as she’s making it. He can’t decide if that’s better or worse.

Brandon didn’t want to be a dick. Deep down he really believed in Dad’s ideas about being a good man. Brandon held some standards that the other guys didn’t. He didn’t make fun of kids just for wearing off-brand Nikes, like Jaime Lannister did. Nor did he look up girls’ skirts like Robby. Brandon wasn’t bad like _that_.

He just figured he would start worrying about that stuff when he was old and got a real job and all the parties ended. It was part of why he continued to lead Cat on for so long. She had Integrity and Principles. He liked to think she saw some good in him. Even when he gave the creepy Baelish boy a bloody nose, Cat had said he hadn’t been wrong because he was defending her, and his heart was in the right place. Brandon just thought he was returning a punch, but he liked how Cat put it.

Now they were over, and Brandon couldn’t remember the last time his heart had even been in the vicinity of right. He looked in the mirror and saw another jock douchebag who shotguns beers and beats up smaller guys just because he can. Even Lyanna had told him he sucked, after years of big brother hero worship Brandon effortlessly and selfishly enjoyed from her.

The thought of his little sister in Rhaegar’s car, following wherever that pretentious blonde prick took her, made Brandon forget every lesson on right and wrong he’d ever heard. Rhaegar may play a guitar and have higher SAT scores than Brandon, but they were cut from the same douchey cloth.

For the first time in Brandon’s life, he was on the other end of a douchebag’s whims, lying in the grass with a bloody nose, just praying the jackass lost interest and moved on to hurting someone else.

On the fourth day of Lyanna gone, Brandon bargained with God. Bring Lyanna back and he’ll be a better man. He’ll go to college and hit the books and never step foot inside a frat party, except maybe if it’s held at one of the Jewish frats that Dad wants him to join. Brandon would come home at Thanksgiving with a shining report card and a nice girlfriend his mom likes. He’d throw the football out back with Lya and tease Ned about the girls he likes and then not hook up with those girls.

But then the same pattern would unfold. The scum always made its way down the drain. Brandon would tell himself he was an alright guy and then keep fucking up. Like, Brandon really did like hanging out with Barb last summer, but he didn’t know how to hang out with girls without hooking up with them and she was down so that’s what he did. It didn’t seem wrong until Lyanna had found out and reminded him that oh, yeah, Barb is clearly pretty into him and telling her to keep their thing a secret probably makes her feel pretty shitty. Brandon had a feeling if he thought about it for two more seconds in the past nine months, he would have realized that, but it just slipped his mind. It was like he suffered from amnesia of ethics.

Things just came too easy for him. That sounded like a brag, but it was really the most terrible of fatal flaws. He never had to work hard for grades because football players got a pass, and he never had to try too hard with girls because he always had Cat to date and cheerleaders for everything else.

_“Life’s going to catch up with you, Brandon,”_ Lyanna said during that awful fight. They’d barely spoken since. What if those were the last words that she ever said to him? What if Lyanna being gone was the cruel Job-style punishment to make Brandon finally open his eyes and see what a dick he was?

_I’ve learned my lesson_ , he said, _Lyanna can come back now. I get it. I won’t be a bad guy anymore if she’s home safe._

Unfortunately, even that silent plea had an asterisk on it. Brandon would turn towards the light, but there would always be one exception to his promise:

If Brandon ever saw Rhaegar Targaryen again, he was going to kill him. 

***

Three days of skipping school is big trouble. Five days of being a missing person on-purpose is bigger trouble. Five days and six nights in a secluded cabin sleeping next to Rhaegar Targaryen? Dead meat.

The more Lyanna considered these facts, the more her anxiety rose. So, she tried as hard as she could to not stop and consider these facts. Every time she needed a distraction, Rhaegar was there. They swam, roasted marshmallows, and danced around the living room to his mother’s old vinyl records. Lyanna couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much _fun_. It was everything those country club camp brochures had promised but never delivered.

But the real world was never too far out of mind, and every day its demands to be remembered grew louder and louder. Lyanna wanted to be more of a free spirit in this situation, but it turns out her boldness had limits and Rickard Stark’s scolding voice could follow her even to the middle of the woods. She liked defying her parents, letting them feel as neglected as Lya felt most of the time, but if she stayed away any longer, they probably would think she was dead in a ditch somewhere.

Lyanna broached the prospect of their return over eggs yesterday morning and brushing teeth the night before that, but Rhaegar wouldn’t have it and she hated fighting. Now though, on the eve of the fifth, the worry would eat her alive if she didn’t say something before the sixth day had dawned. 

She and Rhaegar were sitting in bed. He was tuning his guitar. Lyanna’s nerves felt just like those guitars’ strings being tightened and plucked.

“Rhaegar, I think we should go back tomorrow morning?” she said, her voice hesitating so it sounded like a question, not a fact. 

“Lyanna, not this again,” he groaned. He carefully set down the guitar on the floor though, instead of launching into a loud song to drown out her protests, as he had yesterday.

“I know it will suck to go back and face the music, but I didn’t even leave a note, and my parents are probably really worried,” she said.

“Mine aren’t,” he said. It was the answer he gave every time, but he wouldn’t tell her anymore about what happened with his mother or why he couldn’t return to his father. Lyanna’s mind was filling in the blanks, supplanted by barely remembered anecdotes of a temperamental Mr. Targaryen. Her current theory was that Mrs. Targaryen had not left so much as escaped. But Lyanna had no idea how to ask Rhaegar about that. He couldn’t string five vague words together on the subject before completely shutting down.

“We’re missing school,” she said, repeating herself from yesterday, “What if they don’t let you graduate?”

“I don’t care,” he said, “I don’t need a high school diploma to pursue music anyway.”

“Okay,” she said, “But I kind of need to pass the tenth grade.”

“I’ll support you,” he said, “I can get a job.”

“Rhaegar, I’m not going to drop out of high school,” she said, “I’m not running away from home.”

“Except you kind of already are,” he said, “I already have a house and a car. People have built whole lives with a lot less. If you’re bored here, we could go on the road. Don’t you want to see more than just this little corner of the world?”

“You know I do,” she said.

“San Francisco, New York City, London,” he said, “We’d walk around the halls during class and talk about going to all those places one day. I meant it when I said I wanted to go with you. Today’s our day. We can be truly free.”

“We’ll have time for that. It doesn’t have to start now,” she said, “Rhaegar, I’m not even eighteen. I can’t even drive.”

“You’re so grown up though, more than most adults I know,” he said, “Why do we always have to wait to be happy? We’re not going to live forever.”

“My life is going to be even shorter if my dad finds out I’m here.”

“Don’t joke about that,” he said. He turned his back to her, fully swinging his legs off the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, putting a shaky hand on his shoulder. Her heart twisted. Had Rhaegar’s dad abused him? With every little moment like this, it seemed more and more likely. But it was such an awful thing, the word itself so grim. Lyanna only knew of it from what she’d seen in after-school specials. She didn’t know how to help, except in cliché instructions to tell a trusted adult.

“Lyanna, you and this cabin are all I got,” he said, “I have no college plans, no family, no one but you.”

The tone of his voice was breaking her heart. It really felt like he was handing over his entire life into her clumsy hands. Lyanna felt as helpless as a little girl.

“I want to be there for you,” she said, as gently as she could, “I really do. If we go back, we can still figure something out. Or just take me back, just so my parents know I’m okay. I won’t even tell them I was with you.”

“You would just leave me here alone? To be with your parents who don’t even give a shit about you?”

Like a light switch, he’d gone from fragile to enraged. Lyanna winced at how his voice rose.

“I’m not leaving you, I’m- “

“-Leaving me. After I told you I’d be completely alone without you. No, I’m not losing the one good thing I have left.”

“I’m not your thing!” she said, and she started to get out of bed. She’d sleep on the couch if he was going to talk like this. As she tried to go, he grabbed her wrist.

“Let go of me!” she said, and he did immediately, staring at his hand like it had a mind of its own.

“Please don’t leave me too,” he said. In his eyes was something darker and more desperate than she could ever understand. All her angst, which had felt to be a stronger force than gravity these past few months, could not compare to this. For Lyanna, running away was just teenage rebellion. For Rhaegar, it was an act of survival. There was something broken in him, and he thought she could fix it.

She had never really known him at all. For so long, he’d worn this mask, and now, the wounds underneath were too festered for her to treat.

It all felt so obvious now that the fear in Rhaegar’s eyes pretty much confirmed her suspicions. Everyone whispered about Aerys Targaryen’s rages, but no one thought to check in on the wife and children who had to live with him?

How many had caught glimpses behind closed doors and said nothing? There had been a million chances for someone in this town to step in and prevent this moment in this cabin from ever happening, to make sure fifteen-year-old Lyanna Stark was not left alone holding the weight of an entire family’s pain.

How Rhaegar must hate them all.

After a very short and very long silence, Rhaegar said he’d take the couch and sullenly muttered “we’ll talk tomorrow”.

Lyanna couldn’t sleep in the empty bed alone. Without Rhaegar beside her, she now noticed how loud the cicadas were outside and how these sheets really needed a wash. Most of all. she just wondered what would happen if they woke up tomorrow and Rhaegar again refused to leave.

Maybe she’d tell him that she wouldn’t go back unless her parents told her Rhaegar could stay with them. No matter how much they’d fought the past few months, Lyanna knew deep down if she came home and told her parents what she was sure was happening to Rhaegar, they’d try to help. No matter how snobby they could be, her dad was always talking about helping the suffering and standing up for what’s right. He’d understand. 

But Rhaegar had no reason to trust her parents. They didn’t even want Lyanna to go to prom with him, let alone live under their roof. He might be too scared to even be that close to his dad anyway.

If he said no to her plan, Lyanna thought about just stealing Rhaegar’s car keys and going home.

Except she didn’t even have her license. Brandon had let her drive with him in parking lots a couple of times, but if she had to go all the way to town on these dirt roads with their sudden twists, she could kill herself. Maybe she would just go to the diner, or anywhere with people and a phone. She could leave at dawn. She finally drifted off to sleep, visualizing herself behind the wheel of Rhaegar’s car, driving slow but steady out of the woods.

When she woke up, the house was quiet. Bright sunlight was streaming in the window. It must have been close to noon. She went into the living room. Rhaegar wasn’t sleeping on the couch. He wasn’t there at all.

She checked the children’s bedroom, and it was empty too. She opened the front door. He wasn’t on the porch or sitting by the water. The car was gone.

Rhaegar had decided to leave. But he hadn’t taken her with him.

Lyanna was all alone.

***

Ned was afraid things were getting out of hand.

The police were called Monday afternoon. Two officers and Dad had gone to Rhaegar’s house to look for him and Lya. They found only a raving Mr. Targaryen who threatened to sue the pants off of them if they came back. In his madness, he did make one point the police found reasonable: there was no reason to believe Rhaegar hadn’t left of his own volition, which he was at complete liberty to do as he was eighteen.

The police definitely believed Lyanna left on her own too and weren’t calling her a kidnapping victim, but a runaway. Dad called them idiots. In his version, Lyanna was now the perfect daughter, taken by a wicked boy, as daughters have been stolen since the days of the old country.

Ned almost wanted her to be taken. No, that sounded awful. Obviously, he wanted her back and hoped wherever she was, she was okay. He just didn’t want to believe she would want to hurt them like this on purpose. Everyone was heartbroken she was gone, and if this was intentional, it could create a rift in the family that never fully healed.

Maybe Ned deserved her hurt. He’d been a terrible brother. He’d pressured her to go to prom with Robby, he got Mom and Dad to back him up, he made her feel like she had no choice.

She had told Ned she had a ride home. When Ned got in their limo, Catelyn was crying and didn’t want to be in that school parking lot for another second. He should have double-checked with Lya first though. He’ll never forgive himself for that. 

Ned’s best friend in the world hadn’t even thought to check on Lyanna that night, the girl he had insisted was the only one for him. Ned wanted to punch him again for that, but Robby now was acting like he had just as much reason to be worried as the rest of the Starks. He had been riding around with them to hang fliers with Lyanna’s soccer team photo on them. They walked around the neighborhood calling her name as if Lyanna would run out of the woods like a lost puppy.

Mostly they did it so they had something to do. The waiting left them all antsy and pent-up. Every time Ned came through the front door, he expected to see Lya watching TV on the couch or eating her sugary cereals at the kitchen table. Instead, he found Brandon and his dad rehashing the same arguments or Mom crying over Lya’s baby pictures.

With everyone so on edge, reaching a violent boiling point was basically inevitable.

Barristan Selmy from the football team called the house and asked for Brandon. The Selmys lived on the same street as the Targaryens. Barristan said Rhaegar’s car was back in the driveway, Brandon only told Ned and Robby that he was going over there, immediately. Ned said he shouldn’t go alone so he and Robby got in the car too. 

They pulled up in front of the house. Rhaegar’s fancy convertible was in the driveway. Only a minute passed before Rhaegar himself walked out the front door with a duffel bag over his shoulder. He headed straight to his car, not noticing them at all, until Brandon stepped out.

“Where the fuck is my sister, Targaryen?” Brandon yelled. Rhaegar’s eyes widened as the three of them approached him.

“Where is she?” Robby said.

“I don’t know,” QB1 said.

“That’s bullshit,” Brandon said.

“I don’t know!”

It all happened too quickly, like tugging a loose thread on a sweater then finding half of it unraveled in your hands.

Robby threw the first punch. Rhaegar stumbled back, and Brandon tackled him. Rhaegar’s head hit the paved driveway. Brandon’s fists rained down on Rhaegar as Rhaegar’s hands failed to grab at them or shield his pale face. Robby kicked him in the ribs. There were no more questions. Rhaegar’s answers would have drowned in the blood pouring out of his mouth anyway. When Mr. Targaryen ran out screaming, the boys ran back to Brandon’s car and drove away.

The cops showed up on their doorstep a couple of hours. They weren’t bringing back Lyanna. They were taking Brandon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/685zPfQxxr4Yyk9Lxf6A9p?si=qFjY_HIKQrSxDQW3qWloNg


	10. track 10: gimme brains by bratmobile

Lyanna hadn’t been alone this long since, well, ever. She’d been lonely plenty, but Lyanna could never remember being isolated for a full forty-eight hours, without a brother making noise in the background or a curfew to cut short a solitary run. She couldn’t get used to it. This extended solitude made her unbearably timid, tiptoeing around the empty place, waiting desperately for the sound of Rhaegar’s tires.

Yesterday after discovering him gone, she’d pigged out on all the junk food left from their gas station splurge the day before. She was so pissed at Rhaegar for leaving without warning or note. He was definitely mad at her for wanting to go, and this was his petty, childish revenge. She watched reruns on TV and prepared what she would say to him when he got back from the grocery store or the gas station. She would demand to be taken home, and he could fuck off to Honolulu or wherever he wanted to go.

Hours ticked by, and there was still no Rhaegar to yell at.

What if he’d gotten into an accident? she thought first. The store wasn’t that far to justify the time gone. These backroads were treacherous.

What if he decided to run away without her? she thought as the sun set. The absence of a note was now a punctuation to a greater cruelty.

What if he’d decided you’re an annoying bitch and left you to die in this cabin all alone? she thought last night as she laid alone in his bed. Every owl’s hoot and howl of the wind now terrified her. It was all feeling very _Friday the 13 th, _and she no longer had the virginity that usually protected girls in horror movies.

The cabinets were half a box of pancake mix away from empty. It wasn’t yet the summer season, and Lyanna hadn’t seen a soul in the neighboring cabins this whole time. There was no phone in the house. Rhaegar had told her none of the cabins had phones, an antique charm that now seemed ridiculously idiotic.

Her family must be so disappointed in her. She’d finally caused the type of trouble her parents had feared, once thought so irrational. Lyanna didn’t know one could fall from grace on accident, with a single slip in footing. This sort of screw-up would not be reset by the next day at school or eclipsed by any other passing rumor. She was spoiled now, ruined forever.

Lyanna wasn’t sure if she was worth saving.

***

Ashara was two weeks away from graduating high school. This time should be a victory lap where all she had on her docket was coasting through finals, partying every weekend, and picking out her college wardrobe. She should not be bringing pansies to Rhaegar Targaryen’s hospital bed.

“He’s hurt,” Elia hissed. She was not having Ashara’s complaints today. Elia’s gentle conscience couldn’t fathom this act of violence towards someone that she until recently held so dear.

Ashara bit her tongue on the question “What does that have to do with me?”

The answer was because Arthur and Elia were the two most important people in her life, but their list went up to 3, and the third was in the hospital. Any anger towards Rhaegar for, you know, _everything_ about the last few weeks was now gone because Brandon Stark punched the living daylights out of him.

Dad insisted on driving them to the hospital, which was odd because all three of them had their licenses, and Mom would be there anyway. Despite the lack of necessity, Elia had already thanked Dad several times. She was nervous, keeping her hands locked in a tight grip around the flower and balloon bouquet she picked up this morning from Tyrell Home & Garden.

“Pretty nice display for an ex-boyfriend,” Ashara said when Elia showed up at her house.

Elia frowned, “He’s still important to me. And hurt.”

“Just because he’s hurt doesn’t mean you have to get back together. He was still a bad boyfriend,” Ashara said.

“I know that,” Elia said, “When you get hurt, you should have somebody bring you flowers. He doesn’t have a lot of people. That’s it.”

Ashara didn’t push her any further. She just wanted Elia to hear that before they got there and saw his face all fucked up and Elia felt bad enough to forget the promposal incident, or Caf-Gate, as Ashara liked to call it. 

Elia and Arthur both seemed uneasy walking into the hospital, but it was a comfortable place for Ashara. She’d gone to work with mom a bunch of times and had even stood in on a few births. After, the nurses said Ashara would make a good doctor too because she wasn’t squeamish at all.

One of the nurses recognized Dad and gave them Rhaegar’s room number after some friendly small talk. He led them to the wing where Rhaegar was.

Dad’s insistence on coming made a little more sense when they saw the cops hanging out in front of Rhaegar’s room.

“Why are there police here?” Arthur said.

“I’ll handle this, kids,” Dad said, using his best attorney voice. He approached the officers and talked to them, too low for Ashara to hear. Dad walked back after a couple of seconds.

“Can we go in now?” Elia said, shifting her weight and repositioning her grip on the bouquet. 

“Soon,” Dad said, “I’m just going to talk to Dr. Pycelle first to get the A-okay. Stay right here.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Ashara said, and her dad gave her a look that sort of felt like he was saying she was in charge. Ashara and Arthur sat in the vinyl chairs nearby. Elia stayed standing with the bouquet in her hands.

“I’m going to talk to them,” Elia said.

“The cops? Why? Let’s wait for my dad,” Ashara said.

“I know one of them. Oswell Whent. His mother is on the fundraising committee at the club,” Elia said, “Maybe he can get us in.” Ah, so Ashara’s dad not being there was the point.

“Our dad will be back any second,” Ashara said. Ashara wasn’t liking this role reversal where she had to be the sensible one.

“I should at least go say hi,” Elia said. Arthur and Ashara looked at each other.

“I’ll only be six feet away,” Elia said, her tone decided.

“I’ll go with,” Ashara said, getting up.

“No need,” Arthur said, “They’re coming over.”

“Elia Martell, right?” the one who was probably Whent said.

“That’s me. Hi, Officer Whent,” Elia said with her best debutante smile. 

“I heard your brother got married,” he said.

“Yes, just this past weekend. It was lovely,” Elia said, “How have you been?”

“Working,” he said, shrugging, “You’re here to see the Targaryen kid?”

Elia nodded, “We’re his friends. We just wanted to drop off these flowers and see how he’s faring.”

“He’s on a lot of painkillers. The kid who punched him was wearing his championship ring. His face is a real mess.”

Arthur tensed up next to her and ran his finger over his own ring. Ashara wanted to tell the cop to shut the hell up. Why was he telling them this about their friend like it was hot gossip?

“Poor Rhaegar,” Elia said, her lip wobbling a little. Ashara wanted to grab her hand. She wanted to pull Arthur and Elia close and get them out of this hospital. Fuck Rhaegar for spending this whole year breaking their hearts in new ways and fuck everyone in this town treating it like a three-ring circus.

“Is Mrs. Targaryen in there?” Elia said, holding on to her composure, “It would be nice to say hi to her and let her know we stopped by.”

“Actually,” the other officer said. He was an older man with a moustache from the last decade, “Maybe you could help fill in some blanks for us. We haven’t been able to get in touch with Rhaella Targaryen.”

“What?” Arthur said. Both officers looked at him, and Ashara leaned forward, guarding him just a little from their gaze.

“She hasn’t been here?” Elia said.

“She hasn’t. Hasn’t been at the house either. Her husband’s been dodgy, but we’ve asked the neighbors, and they said they haven’t seen her or the younger son for at least a month. He was pulled out of school. We don’t know if she even knows her son’s in the hospital.”

“Rhaegar didn’t say anything,” Elia said, “No…he must have mentioned them. We would have known if they were gone. He talks about his little brother all the time.”

“I haven’t been to the house since…last year?” Arthur said.

“Rhaegar doesn’t like having friends over,” Elia said.

“The kid seems pretty troubled. The dad only came when he was admitted then went home. He wasn’t very kind to the nurses either,” Whent said, “And with this kidnapping business.”

Ashara almost snorted, thinking the word was a repeat of some gossip, but the cops were dead serious.

“I thought they were runaways,” Ashara said slowly. The cops turned to her.

“Well, Rhaegar is eighteen, and this Stark girl is underage. We’re planning to ask Rhaegar some questions whenever he wakes up. It’s not looking good for him, with the girl gone and he, by all appearances, trying to skip town. Perhaps he was just staying with his mother and wasn’t even with the Stark girl, but we won’t know until we find at least one of them. Do any of you know Lyanna Stark well?”

They all shook their heads.

“Can you think of a place where Rhaegar would have taken her?”

They all shook their heads again.

“If you know something, you should tell us,” the older cop said, “It will only help your friend.”

“We don’t know anything,” Ashara snapped, but the mean cheerleader routine was not enough to go up against a cop.

“What’s going on here?” They all turned to find Dad walking towards them, with Mom and a doctor with a long white beard.

“I really hope officers of the law weren’t asking minors questions without a parent or attorney present,” Dad said.

“Only small talk,” Whent said, eyeing Dad with disdain. Ashara wanted to say something cruel to Whent, possibly about the fact that he was clearly a loser who peaked in high school, who was enjoying Rhaegar’s situation because his own life didn’t have anything going on. Mom and Dad wouldn’t like that though. 

“Will we be able to see Rhaegar?” Elia said.

“Only for a minute,” Dr. Santa Clause said.

“He’s sleeping,” Mom said, “I’ll go in with you. Officers.”

Mom put an arm around Elia and the officers parted for them and Arthur and Ashara to walk into Rhaegar’s room. Ashara sent Whent a sideways glare.

Rhaegar looked very different from the pretty boy half the girls in school worshipped. His eye, nose, and lips were still swollen and purplish. He had stitches across his cheek.

“Oh,” Elia whimpered. She finally set her bouquet down and went to stand closer to Rhaegar.

“Fuck,” Arthur said. Mom didn’t scold him for swearing.

“It looks worse than it is,” Mom said, “This is all going to heal. No permanent damage.”

“I’m going to kill Brandon,” Arthur said.

“I will not hear that,” Mom said, “No more violence. Do you want to end up in prison?”

“Brandon’s going to prison?” Ashara said.

Mom pursed her lips, “I can’t say.”

“Is Rhaegar?” Elia said very quietly.

Dad sighed, “We don’t know the facts of what Rhaegar’s been doing. Only he’ll be able to tell us.”

“But it’s going to be a bit before he’s conscious and lucid,” Mom said, “We should go.”

Ashara moved toward the door. Elia followed. Arthur was lingering by the tray table next to Rhaegar’s bed. There was a plastic bag on it.

“This his stuff?” Arthur said.

“The clothes he was admitted with,” Mom said.

“Right,” Arthur said. He followed them out.

Dad dropped off Elia at her house, and Ashara walked her to her door and hugged her tight.

“I don’t want to think he did anything bad with Lyanna,” Elia said, “I mean, besides the cheating.”

“Rhaegar’s not that kind of guy,” Ashara agreed, “Like, yeah, he’s been annoying lately, but he wouldn’t do anything, like, illegal.”

“Right,” Elia nodded, “It looks bad to the cops, but that’s because they don’t know him.”

“Yeah.”

“But his mom…” Elia said, “How could a mom just leave? Why wouldn’t Rhaegar tell me that? I didn’t know his parents were getting divorced.”

“Maybe…it wasn’t a clean split,” Ashara said. God, she sounded like a soap opera, “His dad has always seemed kind of off. Arthur’s told me he’s ‘hard to please’, but…would your parents leave your side if you were in a hospital bed?”

“No,” Elia said, her face ashen, “Rhaegar has said his dad’s a bastard, but I thought…he could be dramatic. The artist thing. He never gave specifics. I didn’t realize it was worse. I’m so awful. I was too wrapped up in myself to realize-”

“Hey,” Ashara said, “You were always there for him. Maybe he was just too scared to let you know how bad it was. He doesn’t like to open up much. It’s hard to tell people you need help.”

“I just feel so bad. He could be so…dark sometimes. I just really hope they find Lyanna Stark soon.”

“They will,” Ashara said, “Or she’ll come back.” She had to because the alternative was too dark for this town. This was supposed to be a stupid story of teenage hedonism, something one day they’d all laugh at, with the easy villains of douchebag quarterback and drama queen.

Rhaegar won the state championships, a feat bigger than the Resurrection to most grown men in this town, and his dad didn’t even go to the game. It had been the Dayne’s who took him to that post-game hamburger with the family that all football players were entitled to before they drowned themselves in victory party beer. Ashara hadn’t even thought about it at the time. Behind closed doors bullshit. He wasn’t even her friend, but he was always _there_. Ashara considered herself so in the know, and yet.

It was all so tiring, and it wasn’t even over yet. She thought about Brandon, who she silently didn’t blame too much even after seeing Rhaegar’s face. He loved Lyanna. Ashara’s words would be just as vicious as his fists if it was Elia in trouble. 

Ashara had taunted Stark her in her own fucking house and made a sport of her misery at prom. Maybe that girl was the only one trying to help poor Targaryen. Yes, of course, it was shitty to hurt Elia’s feelings in the process, but maybe, a little voice in Ashara’s head betrayed, it was the only out Rhaegar could find. 

Ashara didn’t think Elia should feel bad about a thing. She was a good person. Rhaegar must have been really hiding whatever was going on for her to not pick up on it.

Ashara on the other hand made fun of those less fortunate than her. She told people not to come to her with their problems. She laughed at issues that really weren’t funny. Elia was a saint. Ashara at best was one of those chubby baby angels whispering mischievously in her ear.

When they got home, Dad said he was going to start on dinner and said, “We’ll all have a chat then”.

Ashara walked up the stairs, mind turning towards the math homework she had that might serve as a nice distraction from all this. Arthur followed closely behind her, silently following her into her room. Calc would have to wait, apparently.

“What’s up?” she said.

“I think I know where Lyanna is,” he whispered.

“What!”

“Shh,” he said, “I don’t want Mom and Dad to hear.”

“Where is she?” she whispered.

“The Targaryen family owns a few different houses. After school on Monday, I drove to their one a little bit out of town. Rhaegar likes to go there a lot. He took me once, but it was all run-down and moldy. But there’s another one. Remember that summer we all went to the lake?”

It was the summer after first grade. That was when Mom and Mrs. Targaryen were actually friends. They, the Martells, and the Lannisters all rented cabins near each other.

“Art, you’re a genius,” she said, “You’re sure they still own the house?”

Arthur nodded, “We had an away game near there, and Rhaegar mentioned it. If he was going to run away and needed a free place to crash, I bet that’s where he would go.”

“We gotta get down there,” Ashara said.

“What? Why would we go?”

“Uh, to drag Lyanna out by her hair and clear Rhaegar’s name?”

“Ashara, it’s not our place,” he said.

“Arthur, you really can’t be pulling the ‘behind closed doors’ bullshit right now.”

“I’m not. I just, this is really above our heads.”

“Arthur, if she’s there, she probably wouldn’t even know Rhaegar’s not coming back anytime soon. Shit, it’s been what- three days? Those cabins are so deep in the woods.”

Arthur took a pregnant pause before speaking.

“Did you see how those cops looked at me?” he said, “When they thought we knew something. Whent looked right at me like he’d already decided that I hurt Lyanna.”

“Arthur…” she said, but how could she fight him on that? They’d had the talk with Dad. Arthur was a big football player who now had information on where that underage white girl was being held. If the police were treating this whole mess as a criminal case, they could come up with whatever they wanted to about her brother.

“I have a scholarship, Ash. I can’t fuck that up by getting tangled up in this mess. Not even for Rhaegar,” Arthur said.

“I get it,” Ashara said, “We might be the only ones who know where she is though. If she doesn’t have a car or any money, if she doesn’t have food…”

“Hell,” he said, “Why did she run away in the first place? I mean, who even does that?”

“Who knows,” Ashara said. She remembered the screaming match she heard from Brandon’s bedroom. Everyone fought with their parents _sometimes,_ but.

Ashara had realized she knew a lot of gossip and not a whole lot of truth.

***

Barb was a secret romantic.

It was mortifying. She painted herself as this cynical punk girl meanwhile she had drug store romance novels stuffed under her bed.

Her favorites were the period pieces. Jane Austen produced cringe-inducing fantasies of herself in bodice and gown, waiting for her Mr. Darcy to ride up on a noble steed. Or something Shakespearean, a verbal sparring partner to Benedick with her Beatrice.

The allure wasn’t even all about the tall, dark, handsome lover at the end of the book. Romance took ordinary people and put them in touch with something bigger than them. For once in her life, Barb wanted to be at the center of something _exciting_.

Well, she got her wish.

Barb wasn’t even at the center from a narrative standpoint, but she was close enough it made her sick. There was nothing thrilling or fun about what was going on in the Stark family.

Barb sometimes felt like the Ryswell’s were the grocery store generic brand of the Starks. They lived a couple streets over, in a house a little bit smaller, with their clothes and cars and vacations a little less expensive. Barb’s parents were snobs, but unlike the Starks, their snobbery came from a place of aspiration. They even had almost the same family make-up with just one more sister (Barb, of course, being the spare).

When they were kids, Barb slept over so much that Mrs. Stark joked Barb was practically one of hers. Lyanna begged for bunk beds so Barb could sleep over all the time, and they could feel like real sisters. Barb would say her mom wouldn’t let her get adopted by another family, so she’d just have to marry one of Lya’s brothers to be a Stark for real.

Sometimes Barb was so jealous of Lyanna it eclipsed how much she loved her. Lyanna had the perfect family, her own bedroom with a brand-new stereo system for her birthday. Barb hated her stupid anti-feminist fixation on looks, but she could never shut off the part of her brain that noticed how pretty Lyanna was, how when they hung out with Howl’s other friends, the boys hung on to her every word while Barb sat invisible.

Barb knew she was cool. One day, she’d move to New York to make films, and her goth outfits and piercings would be what made her fit in, not stand out. Lyanna told her stuff like this all the time. She’d scoffed at the yearbook superlatives last year.

“I mean, honestly, Jon Umber for Most Likely to Be the Next Jerry Seinfeld? Barb’s the funniest person at this school and would be the funniest person on NBC.”

“A freshman would never win,” Barb had replied, trying to hide how overwhelmingly pleased she was.

Tears pushed at her eyes. If she never saw Lyanna again, that stupid prom fight would be the last conversation she ever had with her best friend.

Nobody would talk about the morbid possibility, but it was now ten days since anyone had seen Lyanna. Their only lead was on so much pain medication he couldn’t string a cohesive sentence together. The story had made the local news, with Lyanna now framed as Rhaegar’s victim. Reporters sat parked in front of the Starks’ house, pestering them as they tried to lead a search effort. Mr. and Mrs. Stark had gone on the news themselves, asking Lyanna to please come home.

Barb glared at one such reporter as she crossed the street towards the Starks’ house. He was sitting in his car, reading a paper and drinking coffee, like this was another boring day.

“Assholes,” Barb muttered.

“Big assholes,” Howl echoed.

They walked up to the front door and Ben let them in before they could even knock.

“Hey, guys,” he said glumly.

In the front room, Mr. Stark was sitting in his work suit on the phone while Mrs. Stark thumbed through a file.

“Hello,” Barb said, “Any news?”

“The police are getting a warrant to search Rhaegar’s car and house,” Ben said.

“We went through her room for anything. A letter, a plan,” Mrs. Stark said, “Barb, would you mind taking a look as well?”

“Me?” she said. Barb didn’t feel right snooping through Lya’s stuff

“It would be a real help,” she said, “You’re in there alone with her a lot. Maybe something will jump out at you that we overlooked.” Barb had to say yes. When your friend’s mom asked you if you wanted some meatloaf, you say yes, even if you’re a vegetarian. Those were the rules, and it felt like they applied to searching through your missing friend’s stuff without her permission.

Ben led them up the familiar path to Lyanna’s room. Barb wasn’t sure if the mess was from Lyanna or the family’s search efforts.

_If Lyanna was dead, they would have disturbed how she last left her bedroom._

The sudden morbid thought almost brought tears to her eyes.

“You okay?” Howl whispered. He was looking very small in his oversized beanie and flannel.

She nodded and started heading towards Lyanna’s desk so she could search alone. She carefully picked up every piece of trash in the top drawer then returned it back exactly how it was. Most were receipts. Slushies from 7/11, hot chocolate from the bakery on Main Street. Barb stared extra hard at anything from the last few months, but it wasn’t like Lyanna would be found hiding out at the mall where she bought this Fugees CD.

Barb went over to the rack that held Lyanna’s cassettes and CDs. She recognized almost all of them. Barb’s dad freaked if he ever saw anything that looked explicit, so all of her good music lived here or in Howl’s car. Besides those, Lyanna always bought the CDs that Barb recommended.

Lyanna always listened to her. Barb could go on and on describing a film she’d never seen, but Lya would listen, asking questions like Barb was some great scholar. Barb’s family always shouted her down if she tried to talk at dinner about the stuff she liked. Her sister Bethany even had a rule that any “dork talk” had a five-minute limit in their bedroom.

Barb was prickly and into niche shit and about thirty pounds past acceptable for Seventeen magazine. None of that should matter but in high school, it did a whole fucking lot. Barb’s inner cynic would be full-on nihilist if she had to survive these years without her friends. And she loved Howl and Ben, but Lyanna was the glue.

Learning that Lyanna was seeing Rhaegar had hurt Barb. It made her feel like an inadequate friend, who must have failed in some way for Lyanna to stop bringing her these sorts of things. Yet, Barb had been the one who started it by following a stupid romantic whim. If God forbid anything happened to Lyanna, the last memory of her best friend would be Barb saying she really didn’t want to see her.

“Any clues?” Ben said. While Barb was lost in this downward spiral, her hands had been ransacking the cassettes.

“Um,” she said, “She said Rhaegar gave her his mix tape. I don’t know. Maybe that’s something.”

“A clue in a song. Very Nancy Drew,” Howl said.

Barb pulled out a milkcrate sitting next to the rack with more loose tapes and CDs. Many of Barb’s own creations were in here, their handwritten track lists embellished with hand-drawn cartoons. Finally, she found one labelled with only sparse cursive that read “Rhaegar’s EP”.

“Let’s see if this is anything,” she said, sticking the tape in the stereo.

They sat in silence as Rhaegar crooned. The music Barb had admired as soulful on first listen now sounded haunting and pretentious. Her mind wandered by the second track, which was seriously overusing a metaphor about a comet.

She kept digging through the milk crate and found a paper bag with an Elliot Smith CD inside.

“Hey, have you guys ever heard of The Rook’s Rest?” she said.

“No, what’s that?” Howl said.

She held up the paper bag. It had a cartoon of a raven wearing sunglasses and playing guitar on it, with a phone number underneath.

“I think it’s a music shop,” she said.

“Definitely not close by,” Howl said, “That area code is Crownland County, I think.”

“When would Lyanna be down there?” Barb said.

“She wouldn’t,” Ben said, taking the bag, “Not that I can think of, anyway. And I hate to stereotype, but doesn’t Rhaegar fit the profile for fans of sad guys with guitars?”

“Why would he be hanging out at music shops hours away?” Howl said.

“I don’t know,” she said, “But it’s a clue.”

“I’m going to grab the yellow pages and get the address on this place,” Ben said, getting up. Howl followed him out, leaving the door open.

Barb sat on Lyanna’s bed. She spotted Blizzard, Lya’s favorite toy dog, named after her favorite Dairy Queen treat. In first grade, Lyanna would keep Blizzard in her backpack, and she and Barb would slip pencil shavings into it throughout the day for him to eat. 

“Hey.”

Barb turned to the doorway. Brandon was leaning on the frame, wearing a collared shirt and tie and looking at her forlornly.

“Brandon,” Barb said.

“Hey,” he said, “Do you like my fancy shirt?” He was joking, but all his usual playfulness was gone.

“How are you?” she said.

“Oh, damn skippy,” he said, “Going to meet my lawyer. Might do hard time. Weird. The last time I hit a quarterback I got this ring.”

Barb shifted her weight from side to side. Around her, Brandon usually showed only a puckish electricity, like he was in personal contest to see how many times he could make her laugh. Brandon was like standing next to a firework. But now a bucket of water had doused the sparks.

“I should go find Ben,” she said, standing.

“Wait. I’ve been a real dickhead to you, Barb. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I guess you were,” she said, her throat a little too thick to sound convincingly uncaring.

“Maybe I deserve what I got coming to me,” he said, “Not for hitting Rhaegar. He had that coming too. But for the other stuff. I deserve to be punished.”

“Come on, Brandon,” she said, “Self-pity really isn’t attractive.”

Brandon laughed, “I really did like you, Barb. I do. I just…I fuck up everything good I touch.”

“Cut it out,” she said, “You and me, it doesn’t matter. When Lyanna comes back, she’s going to need us. We have to just go back to how we were before.”

“Before…us…?” he said.

“I mean before last summer,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Lya’s brother and best friend. No other connection. Two separate entities. We should have never been what we were. Someone was always bound to get hurt.”

“I am really sorry,” he said.

“Don’t,” she said, “It was my mistake too. Ours. We did it together.” If she could not be romantic heroine, Barb would at least rather not be the victim. Brandon couldn’t break her heart if she reminded herself that she came to his bed with eyes wide open. Once she widened the scope though, they were not even so close to the main characters. She and Brandon would be standing on opposite peripheries, playing the Fools.

“Brandon,” Mrs. Stark called from downstairs.

“That’s me,” he said. He gave her a salute, as he was wont to do sarcastically in the past. This time the gesture was more solemn.

Brandon exited stage left. Barb figured she shouldn’t be far behind.

The boys came back up and looked up the address of the store. It was hours away, in a vacation town where no one they knew lived.

“Maybe we should just drive down there,” Howl said, “It’s not like we have any other leads.”

“What’s your lead?” They turned to see Ned in the doorway, where Brandon had been seconds before.

“A music store Rhaegar maybe bought a CD from,” Ben said, “Not exactly solid.”

From downstairs, the doorbell rang.

“I swear to God, if that’s the local news again…” Ned said. They all followed him downstairs.

It was a shame it wasn’t the local news. They should be here to cover the shocking story of Elia Martell and Ashara Dayne being at the Starks’ front door.

“Uh,” Ned said, “Are you here to see Brandon?”

“No. Is he here?” Ashara said.

“He’s at the lawyer’s,” Ned said.

“Oh,” Ashara said, “You’re the better choice for this anyway.”

“That’s a first,” Ned said.

“We’re here to help,” Elia said, “We have an idea of where your sister might be.”

“If this is a prank, it’s pretty sick,” Barb said, glaring at Ashara specifically, “Why would you two want to help Lyanna?”

“We aren’t monsters,” Ashara said, “I know I’m not known for my altruism, but I have enough moral compass to recognize that boyfriend-stealing does not deserve capital punishment.”

“What do you mean? Where is she?” Ned said.

“We think she might be at Rhaegar’s vacation house by Lake Joy,” Elia said, “Rhaegar goes down there sometimes.”

“That wouldn’t happen to be in Crownland County, would it?” Ben said.

“I think so,” Ashara said.

“Let’s go,” Ned said to Barb and Howl.

“It’ll be quicker if we show you the way,” Ashara said.

“We can handle it,” Barb said.

“Hey,” Ashara said, “Look, this girl has been in a remote cabin for a week, alone and stranded for almost 72 hours. You don’t like me, and I, well, I don’t know most of your names. But if you all get lost in the woods looking for her, that time could be a serious difference between her being okay or not. So, can we all suck up our resentments and get in the damn car?”

Ned sucked on his teeth before saying, “Ben, you stay here, and tell Mom and Dad where I went.”

“I’m coming too,” Barb said, “I want to help Lyanna.”

“Me too,” Howl said, “But, uh, she’ll need a seat, so I’ll hang back here with Ben.”

“Alright then. Lead the way, spirit squad,” Barb said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/685zPfQxxr4Yyk9Lxf6A9p?si=iVpgaPiaT56sD0inpWU7lA


	11. track 11: waterfalls by tlc

The sun rose, her stomach growled, and Lyanna didn’t have many options left.

When she thought of the music she’d have to face at home, she wanted to lock the doors and stay in this cabin forever. Rather that than the ear-splitting screamo accompanied by babies wailing and nails on chalkboards. Last night, she’d cried herself to sleep thinking of how fucking stupid she was and how no matter where she went, she’d never be escaping the terrible fact of herself.

But this morning, the sun rose. She had that sort of calm emptiness that came after a really long cry.

Lyanna wasn’t going to starve to death in a cabin. As far as her self-loathing went, even that felt extreme in the morning light. For all the turmoil a homecoming meant, another day locked up with her thoughts and Rhaegar’s dirty laundry felt unacceptable.

What was really going to happen if she wants? An epic yelling at. Disappointed sighs and screams. Months where her family wouldn’t even look at her. Being grounded until she turned eighteen.

Girls whispering “slut” behind her back or saying it to her face. Detention and make-up tests. Eating alone in the cafeteria.

But then what?

She’d say sorry to everyone. She’d go to school. Maybe she could get at least one person to forgive her. Maybe Benjen, who’d always been too good for his own good. That would be enough. 

Even if nobody forgave her and she was called the school slut for the rest of high school, she still had her. There would still be soccer and homework. Her parents may be mad forever, but she hoped they wouldn’t. Even if they were in two years, she would graduate, and it wouldn’t matter. There was a world outside of West High. She just had to survive the waiting for it.

Maybe months from now, she would get over her anger at his abandonment and be happy Rhaegar got away at all. Lyanna had learnt desperation was a matter of degrees. She really could have it worse.

Lyanna woke up hungry, and if she waited much longer to start walking, she wouldn’t have the calories for the trek back to civilization. And if she didn’t leave with plenty of hours of daylight, the journey would be even more treacherous.

No one was coming for her. Lyanna had to rescue herself.

This was really obvious in hindsight.

Lyanna dressed in Rhaegar’s running shorts and sweatshirt, the combat boots she wore to prom, and the familiar weight of her varsity jacket. She stuffed her prom dress into a drawstring backpack. Mom would be mad if she left it behind. Lyanna didn’t want any reason to come back.

It was cloudy, and Lyanna worried about rain. She wished she’d had the sense to leave yesterday with a full stomach and the sunlight glinting off the lake, but it couldn’t be helped.

Lyanna did a last wander past the other cabins. Maybe she would get lucky and find someone there with a landline or a millionaire with one of those mobile phones that could even get reception all the way out there.

No luck. The houses were dark and locked.

Lyanna turned to the main road. Her combat boots were hard to walk in. If only her rebellion had inspired her to wear sneakers under her dress instead.

For what in her estimation felt like two hours, she was fine. Tired but fine. She wanted to run, but she had to keep her energy level steady. No axe murderers or bears had jumped out at her yet.

Then there were the first droplets. A chilly breeze on her bare shins. Within minutes, it was a downpour.

Lyanna had played soccer in the rain. She grit her teeth and kept walking, but the wet now came down so hard that it was difficult to see very far in front of her.

And damn it, couldn’t she at least gone to prom with a hair elastic on her wrist? She tried to slick it back, but the wet strands kept falling back in her face.

It was just her, her thoughts, and the rain. Her earlier resolve was now as damp and breakable as a piece of paper in this wet. Turning back would be futile. She should have stayed. She should have left yesterday. She should have never run away.

She hadn’t even seen a single car because no one was out here. Only she was dumb enough to be in the middle of the woods in this downpour.

Thunder rumbled. She walked into the middle of the road because what if lightning struck a tree and she was under it and then she got zapped and died? Who would even find her body?

_Lyanna Stark died as she lived- a huge fucking idiot._

She’d estimated at least a four hour walk to something, but she didn’t have a watch, and there was no sun to measure the time. It felt like she’d been walking forever.

Lyanna slipped in the mud, her foot flying back, and she hit the dirt road on her stomach with a smack. Pain spread through her chest and hands, but especially in her right ankle. She must have twisted it. The road was sloped, with the mud flowing down it, and Lyanna unable to get a steady grip to stop herself from going with it. In the mud and under the sheets of rain, Lyanna felt like she was drowning.

For the first time in her young life, the possibility of dying felt real. People died all the time in thunderstorms on dark forest roads.

But her left boot found a piece of solid-ish earth to dig into. She gripped a freezing cold piece of ground, holding on like she was scaling a cliff. She got on her knees and pushed herself standing again.

Lyanna took slow steps, wincing every time she had to put down her right leg but forced to keep as much traction as she could. Tears mixed together with the rainwater on her cheeks. Her hands and shins got skinned when she fell. She was a mess of blood and mud.

_No one will applaud me for surviving this walk,_ Lyanna thought, _but someone really fucking should._

The road was turning and splitting, and Lyanna just had to go off what looked like the more-travelled routes because she couldn’t remember the exact way Rhaegar had taken. There were no street signs or markers, just water and trees blending in brown and green.

But finally, the dirt turned into asphalt. She was on the map again. She might just make it.

It would still be at least an hour to the closest buildings, but she’d made it this far. The flatter earth was a blessing to her ankle. She might need a doctor when someone did find her.

Then, out of the rain and the trees, came her savior.

Lyanna stepped towards the middle of the road, waving her arms and screaming.

The car sped on by.

She couldn’t believe it. She was so close. 

“ASSHOLE!” she screamed into the rain. She laughed and sobbed at the same time, staring down the street, waiting for them to come back.

They didn’t. Typical.

Lyanna turned back and kept heading straight.

Should she even get into a random car if another comes? Her mom told her never to talk to strangers for a reason. Maybe she should just keep her head down and keep walking until she got somewhere public. But if someone dangerous did see a teenage girl alone in the middle of nowhere, they’d probably stop anyway.

She couldn’t think about that. She had to keep moving. Relief was in sight. The gas station or the diner would have a phone. She would call home. Maybe Brandon would pick up. Her big brother would always come for her if she needed him.

A second set of Headlights broke through the wet. It was a big SUV with tinted windows. Lyanna’s ankle screamed, and she decided to risk it. She waved her arms and yelled, “STOP!”

They stopped a few yards in front of her. Lyanna’s heart pounded.

The passenger door opened.

“Lyanna?”

It was Ned. Sweet Ned, her most responsible brother, who would never do something as dumb as she had. Shock and relief and shame washed over her. Lyanna’s body was wracked by a big, broken sob. It was over. It was really over.

“Lya,” he said, stepping forward to pull her into his arms. She couldn’t even remember the last time she really hugged Ned. Not since she was little and outgrew all her sweetness.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she blubbered right in his ear.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“I wish you didn’t have to see this,” she said. She looked like a horror movie, the final girl covered in gore and laughing at her own improbable survival.

“Don’t say that, Lya. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s all okay.”

“I’m not sure if that’s true,” she said, laughing with a touch of hysteria. Ned said nothing. He agreed with her and couldn’t lie and say he didn’t. She loved him for it.

“Ned, I was so scared,” she said, “I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Ned said, “I’m going to take you home.”

“Promise me, Ned?”

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who read and kudos-d and commented! this is the first long fic i've ever finished and posted. 
> 
> spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/685zPfQxxr4Yyk9Lxf6A9p?si=sGGJMOEFSL2BIzn2dKYteg
> 
> pinterest board with 90s-appropriate casting and outfits: https://pin.it/Kun1M8i


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